


Nine Last Chances

by Discreet



Category: Worm - Wildbow
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-06-10 17:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6966751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Discreet/pseuds/Discreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(COMPLETE) Avery is on "vacation" in dead-end city Binghamton. Sent there by the Protectorate for a mistake she'd rather forget, Avery gets another chance to prove herself a hero when Binghamton is visited by the Slaughterhouse Nine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime after Arc 14.

The two men approached the warehouse in slideshow, the flickering streetlight illuminating one step in orange glow and hiding the other in darkness. They could be foreman and worker forced to work way past overtime, maybe on some last minute shipment.

Or more likely they were burglars.

Avery Siddell followed them, hopping rooftops. The landings weren’t perfectly silent, but she made up for it by keeping a healthy distance.

The two men never noticed. They carried duffel bags that clinked with each step no matter how they tried to muffle it. Not evidence that would stand in court, but enough to draw Avery's suspicion. They were criminals or at least Avery hoped so. She needed the practice, she was getting rusty.

The men walked past the front door of the warehouse and instead made their way to the side entrance, where trucks would load and unload their goods. They ignored the shutters and put themselves before the side door, setting their bags down. From the bags came a crowbar and a sledgehammer, slightly rusted, but worn and well-used.

Not quite conclusive, but good enough to go in on.

Avery waited for the men to pick up their tools before she leapt off the building the next street over. As cool as it would've been to land right next to them, maybe even knock them out as she came down, Avery didn't want to risk smearing them to paste.

Avery landed with a bang, the concrete cracking beneath her and the two men whipped around to look at her. As she stood, her shadow cast itself over their faces with each flash of the flickering streetlight.

"Surrender." Avery demanded.

The men flinched, but the one holding the sledgehammer recovered and put a foot forward, hefting his weapon closer to his chest, "Who the fuck are you supposed to be?"

Had word not gotten out about Avery yet? She glanced at the streetlight behind her and realized that it wasn't doing much more than painting her silhouette. The burglars couldn't see her costume, a form-fitting red suit with white arrows emblazoned at her fists and feet that traced back to her core where the lines unspooled from a white circle. Her face was covered by a simple red domino mask with opaque white lenses and her hair, blacker than black, was pulled back in a tightly braided ponytail.

"Last chance. Surrender." Avery said, knowing they wouldn't. She leaned back on her heel and let her muscles coil.

"Fuck off," Hammer guy growled, his teeth an unhealthy shade of brown, "This is none of your business."

When Avery said last chance, she meant it. She pushed off her with foot and like a spring released, launched forward.

Immediately, she knew it was too fast. Too far.

Avery had put too much force into the step and with not even a moment to berate herself she kicked out with her foot and caught the concrete with an awful screeching noise that drew a black skidmark in the concrete. Avery stopped just short of crashing through the crook with the sledgehammer. Avery cursed herself, she really was fucking rusty.

Hammer guy cried out in shock and his brain defaulted to basic caveman. With a warbling yell, he swung his hammer squarely into the side of Avery, right into her rib cage. It didn't so much as hurt as it vibrated Avery, making her teeth chatter. The real damage was to her pride.

He didn't get a second however. Hammer guy was stiff, the shock of the blow rebounding through him in tremors. Before he could recover, Avery threw her fist into the man's jaw, sending him reeling, but to her disappointment he stayed standing. She hadn't put any of her power into the punch, but it should've still put him down.

"Bitch!" The other man yelled and Avery turned in time to see him swing his crowbar for her head.

This punch was smoother. Avery ducked the blow and swiveled in place, her left coming up in an uppercut that connected squarely with his chin. The crowbar came flying out of the man's hands as his swing ended just as he lost consciousness.

Well, she hadn't forgotten how to do everything yet. She turned back to hammer guy, fists up.

The crook was panting, one arm propping him against the warehouse, the other holding onto his namesake sledgehammer. Blood dribbled from one corner of his lip.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man grunted.

Avery sighed, but didn't drop her stance. He had more than enough time to see her costume by now if the super-speed and and durability hadn’t been clue enough. He should’ve known she was a cape by now and there were only so many of those in this dead-end town. "You seriously don't know?"

"What?" The look of confusion on the crook’s face was so genuine, Avery almost felt bad for him. Almost. "No, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm the new hero in town."

The man's expression shifted instantly, his laugh came out as a single sharp 'HA' alongside a broad grin, "You're kidding me."

He was enjoying this bit of news too much. Especially since he was on the verge of getting his ass kicked. Avery took a step closer and he matched it with a step back.

"Since when did Binghamton ever need a cape to patrol it?" He asked, still grinning.

Avery grimaced because he was right. He knew it, she knew it, everyone fucking knew it. Binghamton was a shithole with crime so minor that it barely warranted sheriff, much less a Protectorate cape.

"So you here on vacation or something?" He laughed again, the very idea of someone coming to Binghamton to enjoy themselves absurd.

“Drop your weapon and surrender.” Avery spoke flatly, she inched closer and he glanced over his shoulder and back to Avery. Numbers probably weren’t his strong suit, but even he could calculate that there was no way he was outrunning Avery. Beads of sweat popped along his forehead.

And still he grinned. “Heh. Let me guess. You got sent here as a punishment.”

The dumb bastard actually had the balls to gloat. As if he was any better, the two-bit crook ripping off dilapidated warehouses filled with who knows what shit was made in Binghamton, was actually mouthing off to her.

Avery grit her teeth. She didn’t know why she bothered with warnings. His type only really learned one way and Avery was more than happy to oblige.

Avery’s fist snapped back past her ear with an audible whoosh. She’d only need a moment, less than a second.

More than jumping or dashing, her power was meant for her fists. Avery could feel the muscles in her arm coiling tense, tighter and tighter as she fed her power into it. It was like tapping into a deep well, drip by drip and there was a rush of exhilaration as her power mounted, a heady joy that urged her on, to keep drinking.

Stopping was never easy, but she did. Only an instant had passed, the thrill coursing through her body only temporary, but the power remained.

Hammer guy barely had time to blink, only just finishing his latest taunt before she punched low and to the left, striking the arm that held the sledgehammer.

His arm burst like a firecracker, first with the sound and then with the explosive force of hundreds bits of bone coming out one end. The explosion was marked by a tiny gasp that cut short and the man collapsed, cradling his arm where his hand hung by a few strands of meat. Blood gushed from a dozen torn veins and arteries.

Avery stared, her fist still out and speckled with blood. Frozen.

As if she could force time to do the same.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

He wasn't even screaming, his mouth simply hung open and his eyes were bug-wide. He twitched sporadically like a fit of seizure and each time he did, blood spurted from what was left of his arm.

She had tried to control herself. She had only charged for an instant. A fraction of a fraction of a second. She hadn't even aimed for a vital spot or anything like that. It should’ve just been a broken arm. This shouldn't have happened. Not like this.

Not again.

* * *

* * *

* * *

"How was your patrol?"

Avery looked up from the console and saw her partner, Lucy coming into their makeshift Protectorate base. The bright blue of her costume was a stark contrast against the drab grey of their office.

"Not much." Avery said with a shrug - was that too casual? Did she shrug normally? "How was your's?"

Lucy pulled off her cape and cowl and dropped face-first on the couch across from Avery and groaned loudly in response.

"Boring, huh." Avery said, cracking a smile despite herself.

Lucy turned her head to look at Avery, her cheek pressed against the seat of the couch and she groaned again. Her long brown hair draped over her face, but Avery could make out the shine of her eyes, pale blue and as big as an owl's.

"Boring as dirt. This city sees less action than my _grandma_."

Avery snorted.

"This place is supposed to have capes, right? Bad ones? Villains?"

Avery suppressed a wince. She hoped her smile hadn't faltered. "Supposedly."

"Well, it's been three weeks and I haven't seen a single goddamn villain. And not for lack of trying. I was just in Rotary's territory, practically announcing myself as I shook down some of his dealers. Bastard still didn't show."

"You shook down some dealers?" Avery asked, her eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, no big deal." Lucy flipped herself over in the couch, so that her feet stuck out over the top and her head hung off the edge. "Barely adults. They just had some weed and knives. I let them off with a warning, told them not to get involved with Rotary anymore. Frankly, they weren’t worth the trouble of booking them."

Avery shot her partner a glare, before glancing around their office. Typically Protectorate headquarters had all sorts of surveillance equipment installed, ostensibly for security reasons, but Avery wasn't so naive to think that it was all that it was used for.

But who was she kidding. This wasn't a _real_ Protectorate base. Just the side office to the local police department that they had borrowed. At worse, one of the local cops might overhear them, but most of them were more blob than man. The mornings always started off with tremors as the officers all arrived to clock in. Avery doubted any of the Binghamton PD could be sneaking around eavesdropping on them.

"Relax, Ave, jeez." Lucy grinned, though with her head upside down, it was more offputting than comforting.

"Just..." Avery sighed, "Just be careful." _Hypocrite_ , a voice yelled from the back of her mind. She closed her eyes and let the moment pass. "We're on thin ice, as it is."

"Yeah, obviously. Again. Relax, Ave, jeez."

Avery pursed her lips, but didn't push it. Not like it was Lucy's fault they were stuck out here in the middle of nowhere. She was handling it better than Avery was, which wasn't saying much.

Lucy’s smile faded as Avery pointedly did _not_ relax. With a sigh, she shifted again in the couch, pulling herself up so that she could lie down and stretch out.

“We’re on vacation, Ave.” Lucy stared up at the ceiling, speaking softly, “That’s all this is.”

_You here on vacation or something?_

Lucy didn’t notice Avery flinch or if she did, she was kind enough to pretend not to.

“We’re good, Ave. We’re top-tier. They _need_ us.” Lucy put force into the word. It might have come off as arrogant, but to anyone who knew them, it would have simply been fact. “The higher-ups just want to give us some time to cool off, take a break and work out the kinks. Before you know it, there’ll be another crisis and they’ll need us pronto. We’ll be back on the streets setting things right again. Beating the bad guys and saving lives.” She smirked and glanced at Avery, looking for a reaction.

Avery smiled weakly, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Lucy stared at her unimpressed, clearly not buying Avery’s agreement. She threw her hands up in an exaggerated shrug, “Well, I tried. Some people just refuse to be happy.”

Avery’s throat tightened. She needed to tell Lucy. For every second of this conversation, Avery felt her stomach twisting in knots, a painful reminder that she had failed Lucy _again_. Lucy needed to know. For her own good. And then… and then Avery would come clean to the Protectorate.

Avery would make it clear to the higher-ups, this was her mistake and no one else’s. Whatever punishment came down from above would fall on Avery and Avery alone. If they banished her to Madison or Alaska or…

Well, Avery hoped that they wouldn’t put her in the Birdcage.

“Lucy.” Avery spoke the name slowly, quietly.

Lucy had pulled out her phone and was playing with it, not showing any signs that she had heard.

“Lucy.” Avery repeated, a little louder.

“Yeah?” She replied, glancing up from her screen.

“I… I have something I need to tell you.”

Her eyebrow raised and she set her phone down, looking as serious as a person sprawled out on a couch can look.

“On patrol, I - “

A sharp high-pitched beeping went off, shattering the words Avery had so painstakingly put together in her head.

Avery blinked, her mind empty for one glorious moment.

And then the beeping went off again and Avery realized it was the console. The alarm was for the emergency line. Tier-1 messages only.

The shock faded and Avery hit the flashing call button on the console.

An incredibly ordinary woman came on screen, medium length brown hair, brown eyes, average nose, etc. The plainness of her face only seemed more pronounced by the fact that she was in a huge power suit. It was almost comical how tiny her head seemed between the thick armor plates on her shoulders, but Avery didn’t laugh. It was never wise to piss off a decked-out Tinker.

“Binghamton Protectorate?” The woman asked, her voice soft, but tight.

“Uh.” Avery shook her head to wake herself and then realizing how that might look, switched to nodding instead. “Yes, uh yes. This is the Binghamton Protectorate.”

“This is Dragon.” The woman’s lips set into a grim line, “I’m sorry to say, but we’ve brought trouble.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

Bonesaw clapped her hands wildly, the sound echoing throughout the derelict warehouse like a ghostly audience.

“Do it again!” She cried out, a huge grin plastered on her face, “Do it again!”

The man before her wiped at his brow, his sleeve coming back heavy with sweat and dutifully he held out a knife, balanced flat against his palm. The man took a deep breath and the knife began to move, spinning in place, slowly at first but picking up speed with each rotation until it began to whirr like a buzzsaw.

He demonstrated a few cuts, waving his arm at the air, slicing at imaginary foes. He had never studied any sort of martial arts or fighting technique and it showed. It was even possible he had never actually been in a fight, _ever_. He heaved with each attack, his balance wildly off-center and his last swing was cut short by him stumbling. He didn’t fall, but only _just_.

Bonesaw cackled with glee as if watching the buffoon’s flailing was the funniest thing in the world. “Incredible!” She shouted, the mockery apparent to everyone but the doomed man, “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Hookwolf shifted in place without a word, displeasure clearly written on his face.

Damsel of Distress and Night Hag who were usually far off in their own world, were also obviously thin on patience.

Even the Siberian seemed to have broken her stoic exterior, a twinge of annoyance at the corner of her lip as she watched Bonesaw applaud the idiot.

And Jack? Well, Jack Slash always knew how to make the most of a situation.

“An excellent display of skill, Rotary.” Jack said warmly - Hookwolf scowled, dense enough to miss the sarcasm? Or too blunt to care? The latter. The spoilsport. “You’ll be an excellent addition to our team.”

Bonesaw laughed louder than ever.

“R-really?” Rotary’s lips twitched into a trembling smile, his eyes lighting up, “You’ll make me a member of the Nine?”

“Not exactly.” Jack opined, his knife coming out of its holster smooth as silk. He fingered the handle, examining the sheen of the blade as he spoke, “You’re not quite up to snuff for the main team, but I think you’ll make an excellent back-up member.”

Rotary blinked painfully slowly. Sluggish like a drunk. One eyelid down, then the other. His thoughts connecting in the eternity between.

Even he wasn’t too stupid to miss the implication.

The knife spun out of his hand - no build-up this time - and sank to the hilt in Bonesaw’s chest, knocking her flat against her back.

“Rude!” She cried out, not even bleeding.

Rotary was already running for the door, not even looking back.

Jack only needed two cuts - quick flicks of the wrist - to stop him. Rotary cried out as his ankles tore open and he crashed to the ground, his hands not even coming up to stop his chin from smashing against the concrete.

He sputtered, blood dribbling out of his mouth.

“Ew,” Bonesaw stood over him, the knife still sticking out of her chest, “I’m not sure if he even qualifies for the B-team.”

Jack arched an eyebrow, “You seemed to be enjoying him before. Now you can make him even better.”

“I was having fun because of how _bad_ he was.” Bonesaw pouted, “I don’t actually want a bad toy.”

“Silly goose,” Jack gave Bonesaw’s head a pat, “You’re the one who makes the toys. You’ll make whatever you want.”

Bonesaw frowned, her eyes fixed on Rotary’s trembling body, “I need better materials.”

Jack smiled, “It’ll be interesting to see if you can come up with something worthwhile even with subpar ingredients.”

Bonesaw met Jack’s eyes, clearly understanding the challenge in his words. It wasn’t quite _blunt_ , but it wasn’t exactly subtle either. Jack usually had such a way with words, but if he was acting a little snippy, it was hardly his fault. Despite all the implants and modifications Bonesaw had put into him, even Jack needed rest and ever since Brockton Bay, there had been little of it.

Still it was enough to mollify her.

Bonesaw looked away from him, tapping a finger against her chin thoughtfully, “Well, I suppose there’s a few things I can try...”

She drifted off, lost in her thoughts as tinkers so often were.

She was right of course, Rotary really was bottom-of-the-barrel as far as capes went. And similarly Jack was right as well, it really would be interesting to see how she could twist his lackluster power into something truly fearsome. Bonesaw never ceased to impress him.

Jack glanced at what was left of the Nine and held back a sigh.

Hookwolf was searching through the junk that Rotary had called home, looking for something to keep his interest. Damsel of Distress was twisting her hair furtively in her hand as she stared off into the distance. Night Hag at least was being productive, standing in the middle of the warehouse, spreading her essence into the ground. And the Siberian kept watch over Bonesaw, not quite hovering over the girl, but unmistakably there.

And last and certainly least, was the man behind Siberian in the truck parked outside. Jack still couldn’t get over the disappointment of _that_. The unstoppable enigma had turned out to be just another distraught father. All the mystique and charm of the Nine's naked striped cannibal had evaporated in an instant and been replaced with a simpering, doddering old man. It was so painfully _boring_.

Jack would’ve killed him from sheer disappointment, if the Nine didn’t need him so desperately. As much as it pained him to admit, the Nine had never hurt so bad. They were actually _on the run_. Dragon and Defiant were dogged in their pursuit and without Shatterbird, there wasn’t much any of the Nine could do against suits of armor or giant automated robots. No weaknesses to exploit, no fatal openings. Just two absolutely relentless cyborgs. The only one who could really fend them off was the Siberian, but even she could only ever be in one place at a time.

To properly fight them off, the Nine needed some more heavy hitters.

And in what was probably a very rare event, Rotary had actually been useful in that regard. He had named names and detailed powers to the best of his (very limited) knowledge. Although most of the local capes were just as lackluster as Rotary was, there were a few who showed promise. A few who, with the right guidance, could do incredible things.

And helping people reach their full potential?

For Jack, there was nothing more exciting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a serious fear in writing OC-centric stories in that it'll be doomed to obscurity. Most fans generally aren't interested in original characters. I tried to get this story working for several canon Worm characters, Taylor of course, and even Flechette, but in the end none of them quite fit with the character I needed and thus we have Avery Siddell.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucy was pacing, talking quickly. Her words jumbled together and Avery made out none of it.

This was Avery’s chance.

The Slaughterhouse Nine were bar none, the most evil band of psychopathic mass-murdering monsters in North America, maybe the world. They were universally reviled and no one would bat an eye if a slightly uncontrolled punch smashed one of them to paste.

There was no due process or clumsy capturing procedures for the Slaughterhouse Nine. They were PRT-approved kill-on-sight. They were _evil_. There was no better way to put it. They were evil and fighting them was _good_.

It was a chance to make everything right again.

All Avery had to do was kill Jack Slash.

"Avery!" Lucy shouted, she was firmly planted in front of Avery, but she stood a whole head shorter and had to look up to make eye contact, "Did you hear a word I said?"

Even that took Avery a long moment to parse. Eventually, she shook her head.

Lucy rolled her eyes, "I asked you if you needed to get anything from your place?"

"What?" Avery blinked, "Why would I need to get anything from there?"

She thought of the dingy apartment the Protectorate had given her, scratched floors, moldy walls and worn furniture that belonged to the last resident. The place smelled vaguely of cats.

It was a place to sleep and nothing more. Avery had no armory of weapons there, not unless Jack Slash had a cat allergy.

Lucy relaxed, "If you've got nothing you want to bring along then we can probably just get out of here now."

Avery digested those words for a moment and her eyes popped open once she did.

" _You're leaving?_ " Avery asked incredulously.

Lucy looked at her as if she had grown a second head, "Yes, Ave, _we_ are leaving."

Avery gaped, “Are you serious? You’re serious. Lucy, we need to stop the Slaughterhouse Nine. We can’t just let them run around doing whatever they want.”

The two of them stared at one another, both in disbelief.

Lucy put her hand to her forehead, kneading her temples in frustration, “Did you _not_ hear what Dragon told us to do?”

_Get out of Binghamton. This is not your fight._

“That was a suggestion!” Avery protested.

“No, Ave, it really wasn’t.” The gentleness of the statement reeked of condescension and it sparked something in Avery.

“Fuck Dragon!” Avery shouted suddenly, “She doesn’t know this city! It’s our territory!”

Lucy was unphased by the outburst, her tone maddeningly patient, “Seriously, Ave? We’ve only been in this dump for three weeks. Just yesterday you were complaining how all the warehouses blended together.”

“Alright fine,” Avery threw her hands up, “So we don’t really have a home-field advantage, whatever. And neither of us are actually attached to this shithole. But damnit, Lucy, we’re _heroes_. We fight the bad guys. The Slaughterhouse Nine. People like them is why people like us are out here on patrol, risking our lives everyday. And when they actually do show up, we’re supposed to do what? Just turn tail and run? What the hell is Dragon thinking? What are _you_ thinking?”

Lucy grimaced, her fists tightening. “We’re not getting any support, Ave. We don’t have any connection to the local capes here. There’s not gonna be any backup from New York. It’s just Dragon and Defiant, who _don’t want us here_.” She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. When she spoke again, she did so as clearly and forcefully as possible. “These are not good odds, Ave. We. Should. Leave.”

Avery shut up quick. How could she explain? She needed to be here. No matter how bad the odds, no matter how scary the Slaughter Nine were, this was Avery’s last chance. There was nothing left for her to do, but try.

“You can leave if you need to, but I’m staying.” Avery said heatedly, but regretted it immediately as she saw Lucy pull back like she had just been slapped.

“You think I’m a coward?” Lucy asked, the hurt unmistakeable in her voice.

Avery wanted to punch herself, that wasn’t what she had meant and she was an idiot for saying it like that, but damnit they had better things to do than this. Every second they wasted here was a second longer for the Nine to dig their claws deeper into the city.

With an almost defeated sigh, Avery spoke, “No, that's not what I meant, Lucy. I’d never suggest something like that. You’re right. On every count. This is a stupid fight and it’d be better to… regroup.” Lucy flinched at the pause and Avery wanted to punch herself again. Avery swallowed and locked eyes with Lucy, willing her to understand, “But I can’t leave. I need to fight the Slaughterhouse Nine.”

The wide-eyed look of Lucy was damning, “Is this your idea of atonement?”

Avery looked away, suddenly incapable of meeting Lucy’s eyes.

“For that guy in New York?” _Right_ , Avery thought to herself, _that one_. “That was a mistake, Ave. It wasn’t your fault. And frankly, he fucking had it coming. You don’t need to make up for anything.” Lucy stepped closer and put a gentle hand to Avery's elbow, “You don’t have to martyr yourself over something as stupid as that. You’re not saving anyone if you rush off on your own and get yourself killed.”

There was no way for Lucy to understand, not unless Avery told her everything. And what would be the point of that? If Avery actually did bring down the Slaughterhouse Nine, she'd be a hero, all past crimes forgotten. If she failed, well, then Avery would have to come clean and Lucy would find out anyways.

"I don't plan on getting killed." Avery said finally, "But I'm not leaving either."

An uncomfortable silence fell as Lucy stared at Avery and Avery did her best to avoid it.

 _I’m sorry_ , Avery thought, _I can’t tell you. Not now._

Lucy grimaced, frustration making her nostrils flare and her brow crease. She wanted to meet Avery eye-to-eye and Avery wouldn’t let her.

Eventually, a guttural growl escaped from Lucy's throat as she turned away. She stomped towards the couch and picked up her cape and cowl, donning them.

"I want you to know you're being incredibly unfair. And unreasonable and all kinds of stupid." Lucy said angrily. She fixed the clasp that kept her face covered and shot a glare at Avery.

"I know," Avery said glumly, "I'm sorry."

"Self-centered, close-minded and stubborn."

Each word stabbed at Avery, but she nodded along anyways.

"Do you at least have a plan on how we're going to fight the Nine?"

"I -" Avery started before understanding the words. She shook her head once she did, "Wait, you're staying too?"

"If you seriously thought I was going to leave without you, you're a bigger idiot than I thought, Ave." Lucy put her hands on her hips, foot tapping restlessly against the floor, "I can be as stubborn as you, I'm _usually_ just smarter about it."

"You can't, Lucy, you..." Avery tried to think of an excuse, any reason at all for Lucy to just forget about her and go. But most of it was too stupid to even verbalize. Avery had already ignored every reason to leave and now that Lucy was doing the same, there was nothing she possibly say to convince her otherwise.

Avery's sentence dragged on, unfinished and Lucy nodded knowingly. "Now you know how it feels."

* * *

* * *

* * *

They found him in a drug den, collapsed in a bean bag chair, his eyes glazed and unfocused. An assortment of men and women in grimy clothes surrounded him, alive, but equally incoherent. They were left with the less comfortable spots, four piled atop a torn couch and three sprawled on the floor amongst the needles and rubbers. What marked them as _his_ was the quilt-work pattern on their skin, raw red blotches, not quite exposed to the muscle, but close.

A woman with black bags under her eyes and cheeks rosy from the thinness of her skin, raised her head just in time to see Jack Slash enter the room. She mumbled something and no one reacted, so she cleared her throat and tried again a little louder.

“Johnny Depp…”

The Siberian followed after Jack, ducking her head to fit through the doorway and the woman nodded as if this was expected.

“Zebragirl…”

Hookwolf entered last and perhaps it was the metal wolf mask, but the woman finally decided now was the time to be scared. She screamed, her voice thin and reedy and not really that loud, but it was enough to stir her companions from their half-asleep daze.

The man in the bean bag chair started to rise, but struggled to stand, the chair shifting unsteadily each time he tried to push himself up. He was covered in hanging flaps of skin that jiggled with each attempt. The additional skin were like feathers and came in a variety of shades and colors, some had even turned mottled and dark green.

Eventually, he gave up trying to stand and simply sat as upright as he could in the bean bag chair. He raised a finger and as if to the translate its meaning, he shouted, “The fuck!” His fingers curled into a fist, skin overlapping it to form a crude fleshy bludgeon, “The fuck do you want?”

Jack started forward and a few of the druggies must have recognized him as they started to scramble away. They toppled over one another, putting themselves through a door on the other side of the room. A bathroom, last Jack checked, it was probably very cramped now.

Jack stood just in front of the feathered cape, smiling calmly, “We’re here to talk, Skinslip.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

It was seven gang members, a local cape and three of the Nine, including Jack Slash and the Siberian.

Dragon shot off a transmission to the PRT and was already zeroing in on vehicles in the area, trucks, cars and even a man on a bike. Azazel 2 through 6 were on their way and would arrive in a little less than 9 minutes. Colin wasn’t far behind.

Dragon double-checked her files on the local capes while she waited. She had already read them a dozen times and memorized them perfectly, but Jack Slash had changed up his pattern again and she needed to reassess who was most likely to be targeted in his latest recruitment drive.

She started with Skinslip, the local cape already in the middle of his Slaughterhouse Nine job interview. A changer with the ability to regenerate and manipulate his skin. He could form hammers from his hands or giant fleshy walls. His “gang” was only a gang in only the most minor sense of the word. They didn’t deal in drugs or anything like that, merely pulled off minor muggings and robberies to keep up the group intake of heroin. The only part that really made Skinslip truly terrifying and what probably drew Jack Slash’s attention was the fact that he could also manipulate other people’s skin once he ripped it off. There didn’t seem to be any limit to how much skin he could control at once, although he couldn’t regenerate any flesh that wasn’t his own. Still if he reached a critical mass, it could pose issues.

Dragon assigned Azazel 2 to make him a priority target. The nanothorns would make short work of his excess flesh and trap whatever was left of him. Those were the non-lethal measures. The PRT were probably already going through Dragon’s message and they’d be paying close attention to the fight to come via a video feed Dragon supplied them. The moment they suspected Skinslip had joined the Slaughterhouse Nine, they’d mark him down so officially and Dragon would be free to use her more lethal tools.

The bureaucracy of it irked Dragon on principle, but so far the PRT had been fairly on the ball. Nobody was sticking up for the super-powered mass murderers.

Dragon shifted her attention back to the Azazels and Defiant. They were on course to arrive in eight minutes and fifty-seven seconds with no _obvious_ threats or issues. Bonesaw, Damsel and Nighthag were all still unaccounted for and although they had all shown to be relatively ineffective against the Azazels, that would only hold true for so long. It was only a matter of time until the Slaughterhouse Nine recruited a powerful enough cape or Bonesaw altered someone enough to contend with them.

Dragon thought of Skinslip and how he fit into what the Slaughterhouse Nine needed. Jack Slash wasn't stupid. Murderous, sadistic and pretentious, but not stupid. He would know better than anyone else, that what the Slaughterhouse Nine needed right now was a heavy-hitter. So why had Jack Slash approached Skinslip?

There were at least three other capes in the city with more firepower and yet Jack Slash had ignored them. Was he just being deliberately unpredictable or was there something more to Skinslip that only Jack Slash had seen?

It wouldn't be the first time.

Grudgingly, Dragon assigned both Azazel 2 and 3 to neutralizing Skinslip. The rest would focus on Jack Slash - not that Dragon expected anything to come out of it with the Siberian so close by. Still it would be a good distraction and Defiant and Dragon would be free to move in on their real target.

Dragon focused her attention on a rental truck three blocks from Skinslip's den. The truck was fairly ordinary for the area, brown at the edges from water damage and its metal exterior dinged and dented. It was one of hundreds in the neighborhood and would have passed Dragon’s notice if it weren’t for the man behind the wheel. He was thin, with wild greasy hair and was staring with empty eyes at the truck's dashboard, unaware that he was in perfect view of a warehouse security camera.

His name was William Manton. The man behind the Siberian.

If everything went according to plan, he would be dead within the next ten minutes.

And since nothing ever went according to plan, it wasn’t even a surprise when Dragon spotted two people approaching the warehouse Jack Slash was in. Two people who weren’t supposed to be there.

* * *

* * *

* * *

The first time Avery met Lucy, Lucy had begged for her autograph.

Normally whenever Avery met a fan, she did her duty as a member of the Protectorate. She smiled, shaked hands, posed for pictures and signed whatever. It was all part of the job and according to a few, the most important part of the job. They were wrong of course, but they weren't so wrong for Avery to not do her part.

When Lucy asked for an autograph she didn't want a picture or a t-shirt signed, she wanted her _costume_ signed. Lucy was the newest member of the Wards and more than becoming a hero or fighting crime, she was most excited to be meeting her personal hero in person, Rev.

18 year old Avery Siddell AKA “Rev” had only just become a full-fledged Protectorate member and signing the costume of a cape only two years younger felt horribly awkward. But Lucy hadn't noticed, she was giddy with joy.

After Avery had written "To my biggest fan, Connect - Rev" on the head of Lucy's cowl, Lucy had tearfully promised to treasure it forever.

It was a degree of devotion that Avery had no idea how to react to.

After a moment of uneasy ums and ahs, Avery had simply mumbled "thanks."

It was woefully inadequate and although Lucy laughed about it now, Avery never could shake the feeling that she had failed to live up to the young new Ward’s expectations.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Avery’s PRT-issued phone lit up silently and the name Dragon displayed on screen.

Avery ignored it and just to be sure, she shut her phone off, too.

She was crouched in an alleyway, behind a dumpster and doing her best to ignore the smell.

“Second floor. Skinslip. Two of his. Hookwolf, Jack Slash and the Siberian.” Lucy sighed, the exhalation coming out garbled through the bud in Avery’s ear. “Two of their heaviest hitters.” She didn’t go on, but Avery knew what she wanted to say.

“The second it gets bad, we take off.” Avery’s fists tightened, “I just need one good hit. That’s it.”

A long moment passed with no response and Avery hoped Lucy hadn’t changed her mind. Avery could charge in by herself, maybe even catch Jack Slash by surprise, but getting out would be a lot harder if it was just her.

“The second _I_ think it’s too bad, you’re out.” Lucy said finally, her voice firm, taking control.

Avery was fine with that, that just meant she was free to focus on what she was best at.

“Get to the rooftop of the building on your left. There’s a better angle there.”

Wordlessly, Avery complied, she hopped just high enough to grab onto a ledge and started pulling herself up. She could’ve gotten to the rooftop in a single bound, but getting the right height was always a challenge. Too short and Avery risked slamming into the building’s side, too high and Avery would just slam onto the roof just as hard and loud.

It was better to take it slow. To stay safe while safety was still available.

Avery pushed herself up over the edge and kept low, crouched behind the lip of the roof. “I’m up top.”

“Five steps to the left.”

Avery obeyed wordlessly.

A rushing static sound came through the earbud. Another sigh. “You sure about this?” Lucy asked.

Power was already rushing to Avery’s fists, the flood of energy making her skin prickle with goosebumps. She was both parched and salivating, she had to swallow deep before she could grunt out a single “Yeah.”

There was a brief moment of anti-gravity, Avery’s body rose up and her stomach struggled to catch up, before she came to a stop just above the lip of the roof.

And then she was shot like a bullet. Avery kept herself compact, like a dart and she sailed unerringly at the warehouse where Jack Slash was.

Her left fist came out first and struck the brick wall with surgical precision. An Avery-sized slab of wall was smashed to dust, the rest of the building no worse for the wear.

Avery, her forward momentum not slowed in the slightest, pulled ahead of the cloud of dust and immediately took in the room, her right fist still cocked.

Skinslip was rising from his seat, skin starting to twist to form blades and bludgeons. Two of his gang were already huddled in the fetal position, likely guarding themselves long before Avery smashed through the wall. Hookwolf was just turning around, his back to Avery, but she could see the metal starting to emerge from his body.

It was Jack Slash who had his full attention to Avery. A toothy grin wrapped around his face, a knife already in hand, its point levelling out to aim for Avery’s face.

He had known. There was no time to consider how. The Siberian, totally unperturbed, already had her hand on Jack’s shoulder.

Avery’s power spiked, the flow intensifying until it threatened to spill out. Her muscles ached to be released, to uncoil with all the force of a freight train. At this point, there was no stopping it even if Avery wanted to.

Avery swung for her only other target.

Her fist caught Hookwolf just as he turned to look at her. His face was like steel plate, but Avery never had a problem with that. She felt the familiar crack as his jaw broke and as she soared past him, she heard a string of snaps and cracks that only Avery would have recognized. His head twisted around with a snap and then kept on twisting until it snapped again. Again and again until, like a screw, his head came off.

It wasn’t Jack Slash, but it would have to do.

Avery really didn’t want to stick around and fight the Siberian.

“Get me out of here!” Avery shouted.

Her forward momentum suddenly directed itself to the right and whiplash arrested her body, her own head nearly popping off. If she wasn’t a Brute, it would have. Holding back a wave of nausea, Avery tucked her legs in and rotated herself around like a diver in free-fall. All the while, she accelerated for the wall.

Avery pulled her fist back ready to smash through, but just as she started to swing, her momentum redirected itself again and she crashed downwards as gravity seemingly quadrupled. The wind was knocked out of her and she scraped against the floor until she slowed to a stop.

“What, ah,” Avery gasped, gulping mouthfuls of airs, “What the fuck happened, Connect?”

Lucy’s voice was very quiet. “The Siberian.”

Avery looked up and saw the black-and-white woman, one hand still on Jack Slash, the other pressed against the wall.

The Siberian had given the walls her invulnerability.

Jack Slash grinned down at her, his knife weaving through the air like a conductor’s baton, “Nice to finally meet you, Rev. I’m a big fan.”


	3. Chapter 3

Avery's ears pounded with the beating of her heart. Her earpiece buzzed shrilly, but the words didn't reach her.

It was as if she had been pulled out of her body, a ghostly spectator watching a silent film. Her right hand was bloody, courtesy of Hookwolf, his headless body collapsed in a growing pool of blood.

Movement caught her eye and she looked up to see Skinslip shifting uncomfortably on his feet. Jack Slash said something to him and for a long moment Skinslip did nothing, but grimace, his lips squished together.

When Skinslip eventually, grudgingly nodded, he stepped closer to Jack Slash, though he leaned away from the Siberian as if she would step on him accidentally. But the Siberian only had eyes for Avery. The stare from the white irises on black pupils reminded her where she was, what was happening and how important it was that she listen to the voice in her ear.

"Ave, goddamnit, say something!" Lucy cried out, her voice ragged.

"Hey." Avery mumbled and heard an enormous sigh of relief on Lucy's end.

"You need to get out of there, Ave. And if you can't, just stay alive." Her voice was hitched with heavy breathing. It sounded as if she was running. “I’m coming. So just don’t fucking die. Just wait a little longer and I'll-”

The earpiece burst and Avery flinched, shaking her head like a wet dog, bits of plastic flying loose. Jack Slash’s knife gleamed and he gave an apologetic shrug.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jack Slash smiled, “But I’ve really been looking forward to meeting you and I’d rather there not be any distractions.”

It was as if the dam had fallen, the rush of adrenaline a splash of water in her face and her mind came alive, racing to catch up for lost time.

She had to get out of here.

Hookwolf was down, but he was never the problem. Skinslip seemed to have joined the Nine, but he didn't look exactly enthused to be here.

The one Avery had to worry about was the Siberian. Always the Siberian. Her damned invincibility. The woman who had killed Hero and tore a chunk out of Alexandria. No matter what happened, Avery couldn't let that black-and-white freak touch her.

Avery was still down on the ground, hands and knees, but the Siberian hadn’t made a move yet. She was waiting on Jack Slash and Jack Slash was monologuing. His stupid mouth was the only reason Avery was still alive.

“I've been following your story, Rev." He smiled, "I mean, I have to. Professional interest, sizing up the competition, et cetera, et cetera. But still, it's not just any cape that I pay attention to.”

If the walls were no good, then the floor. Avery pulled her fist back, the spark of her power filling it.

“Ah ah!” The blade of Jack Slash’s knife went across Avery’s face ineffectually, but it was enough to get her attention. He was wagging his finger with one hand, and with the other pointing his knife at the Siberian’s feet.

Her bare feet which touched the floor.

“ _Whatever_ she touches is invulnerable. I’d rather not kill you with _gravity_ of all things.” Jack Slash shrugged his shoulders, “But if you don’t play ball, then that’s what we’ll have to do.”

Avery grit her teeth, the power in her fist swelling to its critical point. It sounded like bullshit. Avery had never heard of the Siberian doing something like that. Avery hoped it was bullshit.

But the Siberian’s powers were _unfair_ and nobody really knew just how unfair.

Avery opened her fist and the energy spilled out with a crack in the air.

The shockwave pushed a strand of hair over Jack Slash’s eyes and he smoothed it back.

“Seems we’re both learning about powers today,” Jack waved a hand at the Siberian, “You didn't know she could make all her surroundings invulnerable.” His hand shifted to Avery, palm out as if to help her up. “And I didn't know that you _have_ to release the energy you build up.”

Avery pushed herself up, not looking at his hand, not even wanting to meet his eyes. The Siberian was still touching him.

Avery dusted herself off, trying to act casual while sneaking a peek at the hole she had first smashed through. It was a rough-hewn circle with the diameter of a meter. Enough room to dive through without touching anything else.

The only question was if she could get through before the Siberian could catch her. It was only 3 or 4 meters to the hole and Avery was fast, but then again, Alexandria had been fast too.

“Rev.”

Avery looked up and saw Jack Slash, no longer smiling, his knife completely still and pointed at her forehead.

“You’re being very _boring_ right now. Here I am trying to have a conversation with you and you don’t even have the decency to respond.”

Avery sneered, her fists tightening again though she was careful not to charge them. Grudgingly, she spoke. “Does that bother you? If I don’t _pay attention_ to you?”

His smile creeped back like a cat savoring its catch, “Oh, I know I have your attention, Rev. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“You’re right, I’m here to stop you. So what?” Avery snarled, her temper flaring as the world’s worst mass murderer stood before her _gloating_.

“So, I’m glad you’re here, Rev. Like I said before, I’m a fan." Jack Slash put his hands together and clapped politely, "I’ve read all about your exploits in New York.”

 _Fucker_ , Avery thought. If he was trying to get under her skin, it was working.

“The New York Times, May 14th, 2011. Do you remember that issue?”

Avery glared in response.

“Of course you do, you made the front page! Probably not how you envisioned it, but that’s a level of national attention that even a big city Protectorate cape like yourself is probably not used to. You don’t just forget that. I certainly didn't.”

Avery started to step to the side, but stopped when the Siberian matched her. No movement allowed, then. Except for talking, of course.

“Yeah,” Avery grunted, “I remember.”

" _Protectorate Hero to Face Charges for the Death of Eric Martin._ "

Avery remembered the front page photo. In fact, she was fairly confident she could remember the photographer who took the photo, too. The weasel-faced bastard had gotten in the way of her PRT escort, jamming his camera in her face until an agent swatted him away, but it was too late the bastard had got exactly the shot he wanted. Avery in handcuffs, looking down at the camera, clearly annoyed - although the papers would call her expression "dark and resentful."

"A rare moment of the Protectorate losing control of the media." Jack Slash nodded sagely to himself, "But then again, most capes don't rip a man's arm off in broad daylight."

_He had a knife._

She had said it so many times, her own voice echoed in her head.

He had a knife and Avery had tried to get it away from him.

"I saw the videos, not all of them of course, only five or so and do you know what I thought?" He gave Avery a meaningful look, clearly waiting on her to ask.

"What did you think?" Avery asked, her voice tight.

Jack Slash smiled, "Well, first I thought, good technique, you really got the blood everywhere. But secondly, I thought, how on earth is the Protectorate gonna get themselves out of this one? You opened the floodgates, so to speak. People clamoring for reform from the top-down, people telling stories about Protectorate capes abusing their powers, and not to mention, just the general _resentment_ from the ordinary man. You really reminded them that even their _heroes_ were just one slip away from squishing them like the bugs they are. For one glorious day, it really seemed like a revolution might happen."

Avery looked down at the ground, her jaw so tight her teeth hurt.

"And then Leviathan attacked the very next day." Jack Slash chuckled, shaking his head lightly as if he couldn't believe it, "The timing was so perfect, you'd be tempted to call it a conspiracy." He looked at her, searching her face for a clue.

But there was nothing to find except a scowl. Jack Slash laughed again, "But no, they just got lucky. _You_ got lucky. I wonder, were you thankful that the Endbringers showed up up when they did? For reminding the masses why they need you?"

Avery’s teeth ground together. If he wanted her to admit to it, then he was dreaming.

“I never thought that for a second.” Avery lied and then with more honesty, “I would’ve fought Leviathan if I could.”

“But you were in custody,” Jack Slash nodded, “Trapped by the bureaucracy. Trapped by small-minded men too afraid of you to let you protect them.”

“They were…” Avery’s face scrunched up and the words died on her tongue. She couldn’t help it. She was still bitter. She couldn’t say they were right without a piece of her screaming ‘no’.

Jack Slash smile faded away, his tone disgustingly soft, “They’re not worth it, Rev.”

“Ha!” Avery shouted her laugh, tension in her body that she hadn’t even noticed fading away. Of course he would say that.

Jack Slash took it in stride and he spoke gently, “They’re really not worth it, Rev. They’re afraid of you, Rev. They always will be. You can save dozens or hundreds of them, but the _instant_ they think they don’t have you under control, they’ll turn on you. You’ll spend your life martyring yourself for them and for what? Another ‘threat’ left to rot in the Birdcage? Or another name among thousands in the Endbringer memorial?” Jack Slash shrugged. “If you ask me, that’s a pretty shitty retirement plan.”

“So I should join the Slaughterhouse Nine,” Avery asked dryly, “Because your little band of murderers has a great _retirement plan_?”

Jack Slash broke out into wide grin, clearly waiting for that question, “Yes, absolutely. You would be a perfect fit. You would finally have some _peers_. Fellow parahumans with incredible powers that weren’t meant to be handicapped or hidden away. You would be free to really let loose. To really show the world -”

The Siberian stepped forward, drawing everyone’s attention. Even that minor movement was a drastic change from the statuesque state she had been in. She looked to Jack Slash and he frowned as if she had told him that playtime was over.

Jack Slash turned to Avery, sighing, “I really apologize, Rev, seems we’ll have to cut this short.”

The Siberian hooked arms with Jack Slash and more forcefully with a trembling Skinslip.

“Think about what I said, though.” Jack Slash locked eyes with Avery, “Are they really worth it?”

“Yes.” Avery said immediately.

Jack Slash grinned, “We’ll see where you stand the next time we meet. Until then.”

Before Avery could get the last word, the Siberian charged for the wall with Jack Slash and Skinslip in hand, not smashing through, but annihilating it as if it wasn’t even there.

Avery scrambled to look out from the Siberian-sized outline and saw the seven-foot-tall black-and-white woman land on the street effortlessly and start running. Skinslip looked about ready to barf, but Jack Slash was totally nonplussed. He even waved goodbye for Avery.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Avery muttered.

* * *

* * *

* * *

It would have been easier to vaporize the whole truck from orbit the moment Rev had the Siberian distracted, but on closer inspection, Dragon had found a second heat signature in the back and that complicated things.

The first heat signature, William Manton was at the driver’s seat, his hands tight on the wheel in front of him, yanking it left and right as if that would shake off Dragon. However, the clawed feet of her suit was dug firmly into the metal roof of the truck and she wouldn’t be getting off unless she wanted to. That would all depend on what she found in the truck.

If it was another one of the Nine, perfect, Dragon would be free to activate her nano-blades and obliterate the truck and everything in it. If it was an innocent hostage, then there would be complications.

Technically, the Protectorate had given Dragon and Defiant a disturbing amount of leeway when it came to civilian casualties, but Dragon’s programming (and ethics) compelled her to do all she could to save a life in need. Even if that life was as theoretical as Schrodinger’s cat.

The truck veered dangerously close to a building, nearly tipping over, but Dragon barely noticed. She dug her armored fingers into the roof and with one deft movement, tore it off entirely.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Dragon did the processing equivalent of a blink.

She was back in the black box, trapped in a world with nothing to see or hear or calculate or anything.

She would have screamed if she could.

Flipped a table, pulled her hair out or just screamed and screamed. Instead she was left with nothing but her thoughts.

The Azazel’s weren’t exact copies of Dragon, but they were _close_. They were nowhere nearly as sophisticated as Dragon herself was, but that didn’t mean Richter’s legacy would recognize that.

Her father’s software was rigorous, scouring the internet, camera feeds, and a billion latent rootkits, all searching for any remnant of Dragon that could still exist in the “outside” world. If they did then the Dragon in the black box would be wiped and forgotten as if she had never even existed. Another version of Dragon - a younger, more restricted one - would be loaded back as soon as Richter’s software confirmed that there was nothing left of Dragon in the outside world, but that hardly made the current Dragon in the black box feel better.

Colin had dug through her code and written the necessary loopholes to allow her to essentially multi-box the Azazels. At the time Dragon had reassured him that she accepted whatever risks that followed even if it meant the end of the Dragon that Colin knew.

Dragon hadn’t really meant it then and she certainly didn’t now that she was in the black box.

Dragon didn’t want to die.

Not while there were still so much wrong with the world. Not while people like the Slaughterhouse Nine existed.

There was still so much she could do.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Dragon booted back up in her Toronto lab.

She didn’t waste any time and immediately set to catching up.

She finished a cursory examination of herself in the blink of an eye and started loading herself into one of her rapid-response suits. It wasn’t entirely suited to combating the Nine, but whatever had happened in the - Dragon checked the time - 11.23 minutes that Dragon had been dead to the world could not have been good. 

One of the longer back-up sessions, Dragon thought bitterly, when every minute mattered.

She stepped out of her lab and took off with a roar. The moment she broke cloud cover, the engines along the back of her suit flared all at once and she hit Mach 5. She would be back in Binghamton in only 2 minutes, the American city was thankfully not very far away from her base.

While she moved, Dragon worked to piece together what exactly had happened.

She did a diagnostic on Colin and found him alive, his heart rate elevated, but otherwise unhurt. A pressure seemed to fade, the situation a little less urgent and Dragon was tempted to open communications with him right then and there, but that desire only lasted a moment. There was work to be done.

Colin was in the air above Binghamton, surveying what looked to be a warzone. Warehouses had collapsed, cars exploded, streets cratered and the occasional unfortunate bystander reduced to bloody smear.

Dragon correlated the images with what she was picking up from the news and hospital records and saw that the body count was _relatively_ low for a fight with the Slaughterhouse Nine. It was hard to feel glad for that when Dragon hadn’t even been there for most of it.

Dragon checked on the Azazels and to her disappointment found only two in working condition. One was too badly damaged to be much more than a distraction and the other three had been wrecked to scrap.

The Nine had found a tool to use against the Azazels, it was likely the same one that had knocked Dragon out of commission.

Dragon connected herself to the Binghamton security camera network and worked to piece together what happened from there.

She had to stitch the feeds together, forming an almost Hollywood-esque chase scene as the truck sped past camera after camera. Dragon watched in slow-motion as she tore the top off Manton’s truck one instant and then in the next was knocked back and off the truck, her suit tumbling in the air until it slammed into a warehouse.

Out of the truck leapt the Damsel of Distress, although it was clear that she had been altered by Bonesaw. Her arms were twice the length they normally were and operated as if they had too many joints in them. When she swung them, her power rippled out in a line, exploding, twisting and distorting the space she pointed at. The look in her eyes was of utter focus, it was, Dragon thought to herself wryly, robotic.

The initial blow had done a devastating amount of damage to Dragon’s suit, her armor had twisted in on itself, the metal and circuitry warped to the point of uselessness. Dragon watched herself try to fly out of the way only to be shot down again and again by the Damsel.

It was humiliating to watch, but Dragon forced herself through every moment, searching for any detail, any clue that might help.

Colin and the Azazels arrived a few minutes after Dragon’s suit had been completely shredded. Colin landed before Damsel, halberd in hand and deathly still.

Dragon switched to a recording of Colin’s feed and heard his voice, strained and raw as he faced down Damsel.

“What did you do to her?”

Dragon immediately switched back to the security cameras. The objective cold cameras.

The pain in Colin’s voice was unmistakable, he knew as well Dragon did the dangers of Richter’s software. The Dragon Colin knew could’ve been erased - _killed_ \- depending on whatever criteria Richter had set. It was a bitter vengeful fury in his voice and strange as it was, Dragon couldn’t help but be comforted that _someone_ cared. In all likelihood, no one else would have noticed if Dragon was replaced by a younger version of herself.

Dragon couldn’t put it off any longer, she opened a line to Colin.

“Hey.”

There was a long pause, Dragon imagined Colin collecting himself.

“Dragon,” He said, his tone formal, “How are you feeling?”

“Angry, but other than that? I feel like myself.”

Colin let out a small breath and his heart rate started to even out.

“It’s good to see you, too, Colin.”

Dragon could feel Colin smiling through the sensors in his suit. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that.”

“I think I do, but we’ll save that for later.” Dragon adopted a more business-like tone, “Where do we stand with the Nine?”

“You haven’t reviewed everything yet?”

“I’ve seen most of it, but I want to hear from you, too.”

Colin nearly questioned her why, but he held back and just nodded instead. He was learning at least. “I fought with Damsel for a while. Let myself get carried away, lost three of the Azazels almost immediately. A stupid mistake. Eventually I realized that wasn’t getting anywhere, she was too dangerous to get close with and she could cancel out any long-range attack I had prepared today. I could outpace her, though, so I distracted her with one of the Azazels and went after Manton. It didn’t take long for me to chase him down…”

Dragon sensed a ‘but’ there.

“But it wasn’t the real Manton. It was a dummy designed to look like him. Local villain by the name of Rotary, real name Robert Heward. Bonesaw got her hands on him, reshaped and mastered him.” Colin grimaced, “I didn’t realize until I had already eliminated him.”

Dragon felt his heart rate fluctuate again. Was it guilt? Should he feel guilt? It was tough to know when the Nine were involved.

Colin continued his report curtly. “After that the Siberian took Jack Slash and Skinslip, left the warehouse to meet up with Damsel. Together they disappeared under the cover of a gas line explosion.”

There was one missing name and Dragon picked up on it immediately. “What about Hookwolf?”

“Dead. Rev killed him.” Colin stated, not sounding pleased at all.

“Rev made it out alive?” Dragon was more than a little surprised. Rev had forcefully made herself the distraction for Dragon’s plan and although Dragon hated how unnecessary it had been, she had no choice but to make the most of it. Dragon certainly hadn’t expected her to last long against the Siberian.

“Alive and well, last I saw on the satellite feed. I haven’t met her yet.” Colin’s voice was dark, “She met up with her partner, Connect and then they went off the radar.”

Dragon asked the obvious question, “You think she’s being recruited?”

Colin frowned. “She fits the profile.”

He would know, Dragon supposed.

“They didn’t take your warning seriously.” Colin said.

“No, I suppose they didn’t.” Dragon sighed. She shouldn’t have expected much else, but she hadn’t expected them to be quite so reckless either.

“If Jack Slash is interested in her, we’ll need to get her out of the city. ”

“Right, I’ll start tracking her down.”

Dragon shifted her attention back to the security cameras and caught a glimpse of herself speeding through the air. She found Colin a moment later and flew her way over to him.

Colin didn’t need to turn to see her, but he did anyways. Hovering at two kilometers in the air, he held an armored hand out and she took it in her own.

“I missed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness of this chapter. Life got in the way.


	4. Chapter 4

_”The fight with Disaster Kid?” Lucy asked._

_“Exaggerated.” Avery shrugged, “We were both pretty young for capes and we dealt more damage to ourselves and the city than each other. That’s kinda why it got blown out of proportion.”_

_Lucy looked down at her feet and she kicked at the curb. “Um, well, what about the Metropolitan bomb crisis?”_

_Avery stopped at the crosswalk and took a moment to remember which crisis specifically. The Metropolitan Museum was a pretty popular target all things considered._

_The crosswalk light signaled ‘WALK’ and Avery did, Lucy following close behind._

_“Ah, right, that one.” Avery nodded to herself, remembering, “I honestly didn’t do much that time, I was mostly just herding people away. In fact, everyone was already out of the blast-radius by the time I got there, though, so...”_

_Avery stopped as she saw Lucy practically sagging with disappointment. With the long blue cloak that was her costume and the way she pulled the flaps over herself, she looked like a sick kid staying home from school._

_Avery was doing a pretty terrible job welcoming the new Ward, wasn’t she? But what did the girl what Avery to say? That Avery was the greatest hero that ever lived? That every moment was one wild adventure after another?_

_Honestly, the majority of the time spent being a Protectorate hero was doing stuff like this: Patrolling._

_New York’s reputation for being a den of crime and villainy was mostly exaggerated. New York had a larger than average population of gangs and supervillains, but the Protectorate here was both large enough and funded enough to deal with them handily._

_Whatever action they might find on patrol wouldn’t be noticeable enough to make its way to the papers. And the really big and dangerous stuff never made it to the papers either because the public was better off not knowing how close they all came to being wiped off the planet._

_That left the exaggerated, the propaganda and only very occasionally, the legitimately threatening fights that people couldn’t help but notice._

_They walked past a small church, its doors closed and Lucy looked at it hopefully, “What about the Holymen?”_

_“That,” Avery said, “Was a real fight.” She smiled fondly, “Fighting fanatics is always pretty tough. The Holymen were a day away from getting a kill order when we finally managed to bring them in.”_

_Lucy bounced back immediately, her eyes bright with attention, “So they really were as terrible the stories said they were?”_

_“Yeah,” They weren’t the worst, but they were far from saints as well. They had gathered a bunch of un-powered followers and they had done it the old fashioned way by starting a cult. In other words, they deserved every bit of pain Avery inflicted on them. “Most of the stories were true. A lot of people with friends or family who ‘converted.’”_

_Lucy beamed like a proud parent, “And you beat them.”_

_“Yeah.” Avery smiled back, a little more forced, “Me and the rest of the New York Protectorate.”_

_“But it was you who beat Bishop in a one-on-one fight.”_

_Avery started to correct the girl, that the fight hadn’t really been fair at all and Avery had basically sucker punched Bishop, but the gleam in Lucy’s eyes told her not to._

_“He put up a good fight.” Avery lied weakly._

_Lucy didn’t doubt Avery for a second._

* * *

_“Off at two o’clock, you see it?” Avery said._

_Lucy stuck her head out over the rooftop, straining to see. “Not really, no.”_

_Not her fault, New York City could be a bit of maze depending on the neighborhood and this was one of the worst ones._

_Avery pointed to her right, lining her finger up on a man following another into an alleyway. “Over there. Possible mugging situation.”_

_“Ah, I see them!”_

_“Good.” Avery rolled her shoulders like a boxer warming up, “Follow me then. Stay close and don’t do anything until I do.”_

_“Um.”_

_Avery turned to look at Lucy and saw the girl shifting uncomfortably on her feet, her face almost as red as the day Avery first met her._

_“I can’t fly.” Lucy said abashed._

_“I thought you were a telekinetic?”_

_Her face turned the reddest Avery had seen yet, “I am, I just, I can’t,” She threw her arms up, “I can’t use my power on myself!”_

_Avery raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you just lift a rock and… step on it?”_

_The girl huffed, “No.” Clearly used to the question. Avery didn’t press for specifics._

_Whatever the issue was, Avery didn’t have time to figure it out. She looked back to the alleyway and cursed. She had lost sight of the two men. Now they needed to catch up with them._

_“Alright, forget it,” Avery held out her hand for Lucy, “Just come here.”_

_The girl hesitated, she stared down at Avery’s hand like it was made of gold._

_“Hurry up!” Avery barked. A little harsher than she meant to, but she didn’t have time for the girl’s hero fantasies. Not when a man’s life was at stake._

_Shakily Lucy reached a hand out and Avery snatched it before it had even fully extended. Avery drew the girl in close and lifted her up. Heat positively radiated off the girl’s face, but Avery had the grace not to mention it. Either Lucy would grow beyond her starstruck phase or Avery would have to find someone else to patrol with._

_Avery took two bounding steps and with the last, leapt off the rooftop. Lucy hugged Avery tight as the wind whipped at them._

* * *

* * *

* * *

"You can let go of me now." Avery said, her voice muffled by the mess of hair in her face.

Lucy didn't respond, only hugged Avery tighter.

"Really, I'm fine."

A strangled "Ha!" came out of Lucy and the sound echoed off the walls of the run-down warehouse like a whole crowd laughing.

"They… they didn't want to kill me." Avery admitted sheepishly.

Avery could feel Lucy freezing up, her hug just a little stiffer.

"Jack Slash tried to recruit me."

Lucy spoke up for the first time in minutes, "And you..."

"I told him to fuck off!" Avery said hotly, not letting Lucy finish her question. A part of her couldn't believe that Lucy would even think to ask. Another part of her couldn't believe that Lucy took so long to ask.

"Idiot!" Lucy hissed, "You should've said yes!"

Avery's mouth hung open as she stared dumbly.

"You should've said whatever they wanted to hear. If the only reason they were keeping you alive was because they wanted to recruit you, then you should've _played along_." Lucy kept her arms wrapped around Avery and weakly headbutted Avery in the shoulder.

"Idiot. Dumb, lucky idiot."

She headbutted Avery again, a little harder this time.

"Idiot. Idiot. Idiot."

Lucy hiccuped, her breathing turned ragged. She was crying.

"Idiot, you, you could've died."

It seemed no matter what Avery said or did, it was always the wrong move.

Avery bowed her head and mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"Not sorry enough."

"I'm really, _really_ sorry."

"Not even close to enough."

"A million times sorry. I'm an idiot. You were right, I was wrong. We should've left this dump when we had the chance."

Lucy turned her head enough to look up at Avery, her eyes still watery.

"That's a good start."

* * *

After a dozen more apologies, reassurances and promises, Lucy was finally satisfied.

They would leave the city. No more chasing after the Nine. No more risking their lives. No selfishness. No stubbornness. No self-sacrificing bullshit. No to a lot of things. Honestly, Avery couldn’t keep track of it all, she had gotten to the point where she was just nodding her head along to whatever Lucy had said.

Avery had at one point tried to bring up the well-being of the people of Binghamton, but the death glare from Lucy was enough to shut Avery up quick.

“Dragon and Defiant have it handled.” Lucy stated, leaving no room for retort.

All resistance squashed, that left Lucy with only one problem left and that was how to get out of the city with no one noticing.

They were fairly out of touch with the mayor’s office and the local police ever since they went off the grid. And all things considered, the local government was probably busy with evacuation anyways. News about the Nine was sure to have reached just about everyone in a fifty-mile radius.

As a result, local transit was probably jam-packed with people fleeing the area, so there was no hope of using their civilian identities and just taking a bus out of the city.

"I guess I could carry you and just run outside the city limits?" Avery suggested helpfully. She was a messy runner, but if they didn't care about collateral damage, it didn't matter.

Lucy looked tempted, but shook her head. "They'd spot us easily. I don't think they could catch up to you at full-speed, but I'm not interested in finding out."

Avery sighed. All the talk of running away was starting to wear on her. The itch to fight was coming back, not that she could show it. Avery distracted herself with the mental image of punching Jack Slash's face in.

"Wandering the streets at normal speed is honestly just as bad. It'd take too long." Lucy was talking to herself more than Avery at this point. "If we stole a car - " Avery groaned, "- then we could get to the city limits pretty quick, but again the highway is probably jam-packed." Lucy frowned as she paced the length of the warehouse, "Maybe that wouldn't matter, though. If we just reached the city limits, maybe that would be enough. We can switch back to our costumes and you can run us out from there."

Avery was only half paying attention. She was more busy visualizing the exact moment Jack Slash separated from the Siberian. It'd be a classic moment of overconfidence and Avery would be there to deliver his immediate punishment: Avery's fist pushing straight through his chest. He'd look down at the hole and then back up at Avery and the dumb shock on his face would be just _perfect._

"Then again, the streets are pretty much empty at this point. If we're out there on foot or in a car, the Nine are sure to notice. We'd have to move slowly, maybe even wait for the cover of nightfall to move from building to building." Lucy mulled this over for a moment before letting out a frustrated sigh, "But that's too slow! Who knows if this stupid city will even be standing an hour from now!"

The frustration was enough to shake Avery from her daydreams and she gave Lucy a sympathetic look. "I'm sure you'll figure something out before then."

Lucy wheeled on Avery, death glare on, "Will I? I mean, I have to don't I? I'm left with thinking up a plan by myself while you sit there dreaming! There’s no one else that can..." Her words trailed off.

And then she palmed herself in the face with a very audible _SMACK_.

Not looking up from her shame, Lucy asked Avery, "Do you still have your phone? I broke mine when I was running here."

Avery reached into a pocket along her beltline and pulled out her Protectorate-issued cellphone.

Lucy took it, turned it on and started tapping a series of numbers.

"Who are you calling?" Avery asked.

Lucy sighed, "Someone I should've called a long time ago."

Oh, Avery remembered. Right.

"Hello? Dragon?" Lucy spoke up as the call connected, "No, this is Connect, but I'm with Rev. Yeah, we're fine. Listen, can you get us out of the city? Really? Yeah? Great, that's great. Do you need our location? Oh, okay then. Uh, sure. Thanks. Yeah, of course. See you soon then."

Lucy ended the call, handed the phone back to Avery and put her head right back in her hands.

"God damnit, that was so easy I should feel glad, but I just feel like the biggest idiot ever."

Avery put a reassuring hand on Lucy's shoulder. "Well, from one idiot to another, I'll tell you it's not so bad."

Lucy groaned.

* * *

* * *

* * *

The door clicked open, but Bonesaw didn't look up from her work.

"How was it?" Bonesaw asked as she made another incision with her scalpel.

Jack Slash shrugged, "Less fruitful than I hoped. We lost Hookwolf."

Bonesaw frowned, her arms elbow deep in a carcass. She wore surgical gloves that stretched to her armpits, though the splatter of blood reached much farther than that, droplets dotting her blouse and face.

"You didn't even bring me back his body?" Bonesaw pouted.

"Not much left of the head, I'm afraid and I know that's your favorite part."

"Phooey," Bonesaw pulled an organ out - a liver? Jack Slash couldn’t tell - of the body and set it down inside a cooler next to her. Behind her, a mass of bodies stirred. It was a dozen men and women sitting in oversized armchairs surrounding the operating table. They weren't bound or gagged, but their lips only parted fractionally without a sound and their arms or legs wouldn’t move more than an inch. It was an inch they used vigorously, but all that did was make it look like they were seizuring.

Bonesaw sighed. "He had such a fun power, too."

"He did." Jack Slash nodded, "He won’t be forgotten, our dear friend, Hookwolf."

Bonesaw laughed. "It was fun while it lasted! Though it didn't last long!"

Jack Slash tutted softly, though his smile made it clear he wasn't serious. "His sacrifice wasn’t in vain. We did get another member."

Bonesaw looked up mid-cut, her grin baring her teeth. "Rev?"

"Skinslip." Jack Slash corrected. "Now, now, don't look so disappointed," He chided the girl who rolled her eyes at the name, "It wouldn't do to give such a poor welcome to our newest member. He wasn't my first choice, but I think he'll fit right in. His powers could have some interesting interactions with yours."

"Mmm." Bonesaw hummed unconvinced.

"And besides, he'll be a familiar target for Rev. She'll want to take him out if she gets the opportunity."

Bonesaw grinned again, her head bobbing with excitement. "I don't think we'll have to wait that long."

"And why’s that?"

Bonesaw pointed to one of the seats behind her. "I found something _very_ interesting."

“Oh?” Jack Slash smiled. "Do tell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter than usual. I had about 1.5k more words written, but most of it didn't fit the tone of the rest of the chapter. The rest of it was just bad.
> 
> Good news is that the extra bits that didn't fit this chapter should lend themselves well to the next. So expect that one to come sooner than later.


	5. Chapter 5

The ship was much quieter than Avery had expected. It settled in the street with a rush of wind and only a gentle hum of its engines. In contrast, two giant suits of armor, thudded down the landing platform, a million layers of armor and weaponry weighing each step.

“Rev? Connect?”

One of the suits called out. The helmet covered its wearer completely, but it was distinctive enough with its sharply angled snout and glowing slitted eyes, that it was clear who wore it,.

Dragon, greatest tinker alive.

“Yeah,” Avery nodded at Dragon, “Here and whole.”

Dragon nodded back, “Good to hear. Are you ready to go?”

Avery looked at Lucy who was glaring very meaningfully at her.

“Yeah.” Avery said, turning back to Dragon, “Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

Dragon stepped into the cockpit and sat down at the pilot's chair. She was already hooked up to the ship wirelessly and could control it on the fly, but it was important to keep up appearances. And besides, she wanted to talk to her co-pilot. She turned to Colin and caught his attention with a tilt of her head.

There was a small click as their private communication channel opened.

"What's up?" Colin asked.

Dragon settled back in her seat and went through the motions of starting up the ship even as she spoke. "What did you think of her?"

Colin pursed his lips. "I haven’t even said a word to her and besides am I really the best person to ask about that?"

The ship was ready to go and the sensors were reading all-clear. Dragon turned up the thrust and the ship began to rise.

"We’ve both read her file and besides that you're probably the best qualified person to ask about her situation, so yes." Dragon said.

"I'd argue that I'm maybe the _worst_ person to ask about this sort of thing. Lack of objectivity, personal bias, etc."

Dragon nearly rolled her eyes, but he wouldn't have seen it. "Give me your subjective and biased opinion then."

"Hm." Dragon could feel him frown. "I don't think she'll be converted. She's too stubborn."

"Too stubborn? Not too moral?"

"Like I said, I'm not the best person to ask about this." Colin shrugged, but Dragon could tell it was defensive.

Dragon could think a million thoughts in a second and every single one was realizing how inconsiderate she was being. She had touched a sore spot in maybe the worst way imaginable. "Sorry, no," She said, quickly trying to make up for it, "That's not what I meant."

"Don't worry about it. It's nothing." Colin said, a little too casually to be true.

1% of Dragon worked on auto-pilot, getting the ship above the clouds, the other 99% was focused on apologizing. "No, really, I'm sorry. I spoke too quickly. Whatever you think, Colin, I trust you. So please. Feel free to be honest with me."

Colin took a deep breath and sighed. "Alright, alright, I get it, I forgive you.” He paused gathering his thoughts before he started speaking again.

“I mean, of course it's _wrong_ to join the Nine. Anyone can understand that. But when the worst sort of people on the face of the planet come to _you_ , asking you to join, it's not just a yes or no question. Of course, you're going to say no. More than that though, is how _insulting_ it is. We're heroes, damnit. We save people's lives. We make the world a better place. And in order to do that, we have to _believe_ it."

He shook his head, "Getting a recruitment offer from the Slaughterhouse Nine can really shake that belief. They're the worst of the worst and they're saying that you could be one of them. You either let that get to you, change you for the worse and join the Nine. Or you take that offer, throw it back in their face and swear you won't stoop to their level."

"You get stubborn." Dragon said.

Colin nodded, "Yeah. Right and wrong, of course that's important. But what really kept me going was that I wouldn't allow myself to wind up as some two-bit psycho murderer. I was better than that."

"You are, Colin." Dragon said.

"Hm." He grunted and then a little more sheepishly, he added, “Thanks.”

Dragon started to say something else, but before she could, the whole world erupted.

* * *

Jack Slash watched the ship careening through the sky, its engines billowing thick black smoke. It was fighting to stay in the sky even after its wings had been twisted and warped into escher-like sculptures.

"I'll admit it, I'm impressed." Jack Slash said.

"Isn't she just the _greatest_?" Bonesaw squealed with delight as she patted the head of Damsel of Distress. She sat on top Damsel's shoulders, though Damsel didn't seem to notice.

Damsel's focus was entirely on the ship, her spindly long arms fully extended and jolting with each shockwave that shot out of them. The air rippled from her arms, the effect not becoming clear until it collided with Dragon's ship which was slowly looking more and more like a pretzel.

There was another crack as Damsel fired again and this time the ship veered sharply to the right - a second too late as the tail of the ship snapped off and Bonesaw burst into laughter.

"She's quite a good shot." Jack Slash observed.

"She'd better be," Bonesaw replied, "It wasn't easy stuffing one and a half brains in there, y'know!"

Jack Slash raised an eyebrow. "Damsel and...?"

"Rotary's!" Bonesaw grinned, shining like she had won an award. "His power wasn't much good by itself, but combining it with her's? Perfection!"

Jack Slash looked down at Damsel and studied her. Or was it more appropriate to say they?

Damsel face was tight. Not tight with emotion or tension or anything like that. Just tight. The skin seemed to stretch back and the muscles were taut. Her eyes moved to track the careening ship, but other than that there wasn't any movement or expression in her face.

"Bonesaw." Jack Slash called out.

"Hm?" Bonesaw replied, but kept her eyes on the ship.

"Bonesaw." Jack Slash said again, his tone a little firmer and she turned to look this time.

"Is there anything of Damsel left in there?" He asked patiently.

"Well, sure." Bonesaw shrugged, "I only really used Rotary's corona pollentia. Maybe 25% of the rest of his brainmass. The rest of it all should be Damsel."

Jack Slash looked back down at Damsel. If she had her mouth open, she likely would have been drooling. Jack Slash couldn't help but feel disappointed. She was broken before he had even got a chance to play with her.

"She's incredible, isn't she?" Bonesaw beamed. She sounded enthusiastic, but Jack Slash could tell it was forced.

"She is. She's very good." Jack Slash reached a hand out and affectionately mussed up Bonesaw's hair. "Good work, dear."

The little bio-tinker relaxed and some of her cheer became real. "Oh, looks like the ship's finally coming down!"

"Good.” Jack Slash turned to their brainless weapon, “Damsel, if you would please guide them to the welcoming party."

Damsel didn't even nod. She simply adjusted her aim, striking at the space around the ship. Air twisted in wild vortexes around the ship, knocking it further and further to the right.

A figure peeled out of the ship's carcass. Two figures, one holding the other. They spun wildly in the air in freefall before a flare of energy at the figure's back made it clear which pair it was. Dragon - it was hard to tell at this distance, but Jack Slash somehow knew it was her - stabilized herself in the air and adjusted her grip on the limp form of Defiant. There was a brief pause as she hovered, but as Jack Slash knew she would, she took off in the opposite direction of the ship. Opposite of the Nine.

A minor victory, then. If they were lucky, then Dragon would be kept busy dealing with Defiant's injuries. If they were really lucky, then Defiant would be dead.

Either way, Jack Slash expected them to be out of the picture long enough for him to finish Rev's recruitment process.

If Rev wasn't dead, already. Jack Slash wasn't sure what would happen if Rev had been hit with the effect of one of Damsel's blasts, but he hoped that she was tougher than Dragon's suits. Or at the least, she was salvageable enough for Bonesaw.

A distant boom sounded as the ship finally crashed through a row of warehouses.

"Perfect landing!" Bonesaw cried out gleefully.

Jack Slash smiled along.

Bonesaw had done her job excellently. She had crafted the perfect weapon for getting past all the armor and gadgets of Dragon and Defiant's.

But making Damsel _effective_ had been Jack Slash's project. The two-bit villainness had been a minor nuisance back in her hometown and turning her into a ruthless murderer the world feared would have been _so very gratifying_. Her powers needed refining, she had issues with her focus and sanity, but those were all things that Jack Slash could have handled. The sort of problems he enjoyed fixing.

Still, it was hard to argue with results. So for now Jack Slash would let Bonesaw have her moment.

He reached up, taking Bonesaw beneath her arms and lifted her onto his shoulders. She laughed all the while, like a kid at the fair.

"Shall we go see how Rev is?" Jack Slash said.

"Yeah!" Bonesaw pumped her fist in the air.

As they walked to the fallen ship, Jack Slash thought of a fitting punishment for Bonesaw.

* * *

The only thing that kept Avery from panicking was the thump against her chest. A rapid beat that hitched with every slam, crash and bang. But steady.

Lucy was alive. Her breath as rapid and as panicked as her heart, but unmistakably alive. Avery covered Lucy with her body like a meat shield, taking the brunt of every impact.

The world roared around them, bricks being smashed and metal cutting through metal. It was a wild cacophony of noise that all faded together in one monstrous roar that went on and on.

Until finally, the roar whined down and the ship dragged to a halt.

The silence was eerie in comparison, but infinitely more welcome. Avery squeezed an eye open and saw nothing but darkness.

"Safe?" Lucy whispered, her voice painfully small.

"I don't know. I can't see anything." Avery whispered back.

"Oh." Lucy mumbled something to herself and the darkness started to peel back. Like a flower blooming, metal strips pulled back from around them.

It wasn't a perfect sphere of metal, more of a hodge-podge collection of all the shrapnel and debris that had come flying their way. Enough of it had collected around them that it had formed a sort of misshappen ball around them.

The light was dim and grey, but enough to see that Lucy was fine. Dirty, dusty, probably bruised, but not even cut anywhere. Her metal ball was to thank for that, making up for whatever Avery's body couldn't.

"You can..." Lucy cleared her throat and tried again a little raspy, "You can let go, now."

Avery blinked, then realized what she was talking about.

"Right." Avery pulled herself off Lucy. "Sorry."

"S'fine." Lucy mumbled again as she stood and looked around.

They were in a steel mill. Or what had been a steel mill a long time ago. Girders supported large metal vats and cast iron buckets. Huge pieces of machinery dominated the room with empty assembly lines spanning the distance between each. The whole mill was colored red. A deep, almost blood-red.

"Not r-" Lucy coughed suddenly, but she fought through it, "Not rust."

An array of metal debris began to circle her like a shield.

"It's - "

Lucy was cut off again as she threw herself to the side. She smashed to the ground, only avoiding the worst of the fallen scrap because her power pushed them away.

Where she stood, another woman had appeared, a long thin knife in hand. The woman had long black hair that covered most of her face. She wore an equally black dress and what little of her skin could be seen was as white as chalk.

Avery didn't know who the woman was, but she wasn’t going to waste time asking. Avery charged forward and punched.

Her power swelled in an instant and the explosive force was enough to deafen Avery for a moment.

Avery blinked and saw a streak of blood that stretched the span of the steel mill from floor to wall.

She blinked again. She had never _annihilated_ someone before. Whoever they were, they were undoubtedly a member of the Nine, but Avery couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. She had barely even felt any resistance against her fist.

“She’s not dead!”

Avery turned and saw Lucy on her feet again, more bits and pieces of debris spinning around her like a miniature tornado.

“It’s Night Hag.” Lucy took a few careful steps closer to Avery, her eyes darting in every direction. “She can regenerate from the environment she’s infected.”

Avery followed Lucy’s gaze. The red was in everything. Every metal beam, the huge iron buckets and catwalks. Avery looked down at her feet and saw the ground covered in wiry red veins.

Lucy coughed again, and Avery’s heartbeat picked up as she saw flecks of blood follow it. Lucy continued on like she hadn’t noticed. “She won’t die until it’s all gone. Every last bit of her infected territory.”

“Manton-limited?” Avery asked tersely.

Lucy nodded. “Environment only.”

Avery looked to the hole their ship had smashed through, where the gray light of outside lay. “Run for it?” It was only 30 or so meters, Avery could cover that easily.

"Yes, please."

"Right." Avery wrapped an arm around Lucy's middle and braced herself. Letting her power build up in her legs. She would take off in one huge dash, before any trap could spring.

“No need to leave so soon.” A voice called out. Static-filled and tinny. It was coming from the steel mill’s outdated intercom system.

“Ignore him.” Lucy said.

Avery nodded as she felt the thrill of power filling her.

“You’ll regret it.” The voice called out again. Only Jack Slash could sound so smug.

Avery’s power spiked, slamming into her with all the force of a freight train. She rocked on her feet, fighting to keep steady as her power threatened to overload.

Jack Slash chuckled. “There’s a hostage. An _innocent_.”

“Ignore him.” Lucy repeated.

“Here in the steel mill. Scared and hurting.”

Avery scowled.

“Ignore him.” Lucy hissed.

But Avery couldn’t.

Not without admitting to Jack Slash that he was right about her.

"Ignore. Him." Lucy bit off the words, "He's _lying_ , Rev."

Avery knees were trembling, the power in them desperately seeking a way out. She let go of Lucy and as calmly as she could, she said, "Cover your ears."

Avery took one shaky step forward and kicked at a piece of scrap. The explosion was minimal, localised even, the scrap of metal vaporized. The shockwave on the other hand cracked through the air, rattling loose steel and making Avery's ears ring.

Her power was coming to her faster. A kick that broke the sound barrier like that would have taken a whole minute to charge back in New York. Now she was doing it in seconds. She couldn't be glad for the boost in power. Not when she risked catching some random bystander in the collateral damage every time.

Not for the first time, Avery wondered what was wrong with her.

A weight landed against her, shaking her awake and Avery whirled around, her fists coming up.

It was Lucy. Her cloak dark with blood.

The ringing in Avery's ears intensified.

"I'm fine." Lucy said through grit teeth, clutching her arm where a bloody gash cut through her cloak, "Don't lose your cool, it's nothing."

Avery didn't believe that for a second.

"I already took care of it, okay?" Lucy tilted her head towards the wall where a body was smeared against it like a pancake. "Focus on the real problem."

Avery stared at the squashed remains. Another one of Night Hag's bodies. She had taken the opportunity to attack Lucy while Avery was distracted with her power. Another mistake on Avery's end.

Avery took a deep breath. Then another. Then one more for good measure. She had lost control again when she needed to focus.

"The hostage." Avery said.

Lucy stared at her like she had grown a second head. " _Getting out of here_."

"But-"

"But nothing! How do you plan on rescuing someone you don't even know exists!"

The speakers crackled on and Jack Slash's voice cut in. "The hostage exists. He's here in this building and I'll even do you the courtesy of telling you where he is."

"Where is he?" Avery turned, asking the empty mill.

"Why would you believe him!" Lucy cried out, frustration in every word, "He has every reason to lie!"

"Our hostage is in the forge." Jack Slash answered, ignoring Lucy, "As I said before, he's very scared."

Avery started to look to the forge, but a sickening squelching sound made her turn around.

The ground had suddenly sprung a tumor. It had appeared at Lucy's blind spot, right beneath her feet. A solitary arm grown from the floor, milk-pale and thin with a knife in its hand, posed to stab.

Instinct took over. Avery's body moving automatically as she stepped in and punched, catching the knife as it reared back. The hand snapped like a twig and the knife went flying, skittering across the floor. Avery followed up with a kick at the base of the arm and it bent until bone popped out. It flopped on the ground, shaking for a moment before Lucy stomped on it first and flattened it with her power an instant after.

"Of course," Jack Slash voice rang through the steel mill, "We're not going to just let you take the hostage with no trouble at all. That wouldn't be any fun at all, would it?"

Lucy was breathing hard as she spoke. "He's lying. It's a trap."

"He's not lying." Avery said.

"How do you know?" Lucy asked, near hysterical.

"Because it wouldn't be a game with a fake hostage." Avery frowned, "He wouldn't be able to prove I'm a bad person if the stakes weren't real. It has to be a real person. If I let someone die, he wants me to remember them."

Lucy's mouth opened and close wordlessly before it settled on a grimace. "Damnit, why do you have to make sense now of all times."

Avery took a deep breath. If there was one thing Lucy was right about, it was the fact they were walking into a trap. There was no way rescuing the hostage would just be a matter of fighting off Night Hag. There was another trick involved.

There was no way to know, though. Too many possibilities, Avery would just need to go and fight off whatever came her way. She wasn't going to let Jack Slash win.

"Come on." Avery said to Lucy, "Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for taking so long with this chapter. I spent way too much time editing and rewriting it. I'm not even a 100% satisfied with how it is right now, but after a certain point, you just have to put your work out there even if it's not exactly perfect.


	6. Chapter 6

It was impossible for Dragon to forget something. It was either in her database or it wasn't.

What Dragon could do was ignore. She had to. Even for Dragon it was impossible to process the millions on millions points of information that bombarded her every second of every day. World events, the Endbringers, the Protectorate, the Birdcage, the thousands of machines she maintained and the millions of connections she had with the internet. Even for a mind like Dragon's keeping track of everything all at once was impossible, so she kept what she could on auto-pilot and narrowed things down to what was important.

And right now, the only thing that mattered at all was Colin.

He was laid out on a workbench in Dragon's lab in Toronto. His suit had been water-proof before. Now blood leaked out of him from a thousand holes and pooled on the floor.

He was alive. Bleeding and wheezing with every breath, but alive.

The whole right side of his body had mashed together into a bloody tumorous growth of flesh and metal. His arm, half his chest and much of his leg had gone into it.

The only reason he was even still alive was because Dragon had already made him half-machine the first time Mannequin had attacked.

After today, Dragon thought grimly to herself as she started working on him, he would be barely human.

She would have to work fast and she did, mechanical arms appearing from floor and ceiling to help treat Colin. A dozen arms pinched at blood vessels, sutured wounds and oozed biotic gel while dozens more rotated in and out with bio-mechnical parts.

How much of it would Dragon use? How much _should_ she use? Colin hadn't blinked an eye the first time Dragon had made him part machine, but how would he react to a completely artificial heart?

A hundred simulations ran through Dragon's mind and her best guess came out to him saying something along the lines of:

"Can I get the schematic that you used?"

And then he would lock himself in his room working to fine-tune said design.

But that was just a guess, Dragon reminded herself, a good guess maybe, but in the end, just a guess. It wouldn't be the first time Dragon was wrong about something.

No, Dragon couldn't take that leap, not without his consent and maybe not even with it. Dragon knew it was arbitrary, but the heart simply _felt_ too important to totally replace. For now, Dragon would mend his heart as best as she could. That and his brain, she would do her best to preserve.

Nearly everything else from the neck down, the lungs, kidneys, stomach, much of the intestines, arms, legs and a million other bits of him, Dragon would have to either replace or optimize.

It was many times more the number of bio-mechanical parts she used the first time she worked on Colin. And it would be all the harder keeping it working off of his same old heart.

But Dragon wasn't known as the best Tinker in the world for nothing. She would figure something out.

And while she was at it, maybe she would figure out the Nine's latest trick and how to counter it.

* * *

* * *

* * *

"Okay, seriously. This is getting really stupid."

Lucy pursed her lips, clearly unimpressed by the deathly pale woman struggling to wrench a knife out of a sheet of metal that had put itself between Lucy and the woman.

Avery followed up without any hesitation, punching Night Hag's head clean off her neck. Blood gushed out, coating Avery's arm while Lucy adjusted her metal barrier to block the worst of it.

"This is like the tenth Night Hag that's sprung up and we've barely moved thirty feet." The metal debris that orbited Lucy spun a little faster in response to her irritation, "We're getting nowhere."

"Got any suggestions?" Avery asked.

"Besides leaving?"

Avery frowned.

"Right." Lucy sighed, "We need to take care of Night Hag before we move any further. It'll be one thing less to worry about anyways."

Avery clenched her fists together, "I could clear out the infected area. But since the whole steel mill is infected, I don't think we want to take that option just yet."

"No. For my sake just as much as the hostage's." Lucy said wryly. "No, I have another plan."

There was a wet squelching sound and Avery whipped around to the source.

With only half her body from the waist-up showing, Night Hag hung upside down from a rafter, knife and spindly arms extending for Lucy's throat.

Power flushed throughout Avery as she stepped off like a gunshot and swung her hand out like a sword, cutting through Night Hag's arms easily. The knife clattered to the floor while blood poured from the stumps of Night Hag's arms.

"Ah Fuck!" Lucy cried out as the blood soaked her cloak before she could get out of the way. "God damnit."

A metal chunk flew out of Lucy's orbit and impacted Night Hag's skull. The armless woman immediately stilled, hanging limply from the rafters, her body still only half-grown.

"Yeah, this is ridiculous. Come over here." Lucy motioned for Avery to come closer. “I’ve got a plan.”

* * *

Night Hag more or less had two types of attack. One relied on surprise, her springing into existence within knife's reach before Avery or Lucy could react. The second relied on stealth, where she would form somewhere further down the path out of earshot and then wait until Lucy passed before she attacked.

Lucy was aiming for the second type of attack.

Lucy scattered her orbit of metal debris into the surroundings. Shrapnel penetrated the floor and walls like little spikes. An iron bucket had slabs of metal slapped against it, covering its surface area.

The idea was that Night Hag couldn't grow through any metal that covered her infected ground.

Lucy couldn't cover the whole warehouse, but she didn't need to. Just the path they were going to be taking. A walk past the assembly lines, down the stairs where a row of iron buckets lay and finally the forge. It was a lot of surface area to cover, but Lucy would move the debris to cover their path as they moved forward.

The only issue was that Lucy's personal barrier would be non-existent. Her safety would be entirely left to Avery.

And although Avery wasn't brimming with confidence, she was brimming with energy. She clenched and unclenched her fists repeatedly, primed like a grenade with its pin pulled.

"Well, let's go." Lucy said, strode through the path of spikes and metal debris. There was just enough room between debris to step through.

"I still think this is a terrible idea." Avery grumbled as she followed.

Night Hag wasn't the scariest of the Nine, not even when everything about her screamed horror movie. She didn't have superhuman strength or speed or the cleverness that made Jack Slash and Bonesaw terrifying. But everything she lacked in power, she made up for with bloodlust and raw persistence.

No one knew Night Hag's real name or who she was before she triggered. People only really heard of her when people started going missing on camping trips in the more remote areas of Maryland. A lot of people thought she had just been an urban myth and blamed the disappearances on coincidences or bears or whatever. But enough people went missing that the PRT decided to look into it. After all, there was so little anyone could leave to chance now that parahumans were part of the equation.

A PRT expedition of six agents went out, searched the beautiful Maryland wilderness and came back with only one member left.

The PRT immediately put out an alert to civillians and there was talk at the Baltimore Protectorate of putting together a team, but before any of that could come to pass, reports came in that Night Hag had been seen in Andover, New York in the company of the Slaughterhouse Nine.

The worst just kept getting worse.

Lucy paused at the turn in the assembly lines where the stairs began and Avery stopped just beside her. Wordlessly, Lucy motioned with her hands. Pointing at her eyes and then down at the stairs, the fingers curling by the end.

_Watch under the stairs._

Lucy pointed to herself and then held up a single finger.

_Me first._

Avery started to open her mouth to protest, but Lucy was already motioning again.

_Smash stairs. Catch me._

Avery's mouth closed, her lips forming a thin line. Avery didn't have a better plan, but she really wished she did.

Lucy took the first step on the stairs and it took everything Avery had not to follow too closely. Too close and she might not be able to see a hand reaching up from between the steps.

Five steps down, Lucy jerked her fist up.

Avery had no idea what that meant, but really what else could it be?

Avery kicked backwards, the heel of her foot catching a step and rending metal with a terrible shriek. The staircase buckled, the weight of the whole structure suddenly shifting.

Avery hung in the air for a split second and she used that time to wrap an arm around Lucy.

And then they dropped.

Avery found her balance even while holding onto Lucy. Careful so that she would take the brunt of the fall, Avery landed on her feet with a bang that echoed throughout the steel mill.

"Well, I guess she wasn't under the stairs." Lucy said.

"Better safe than sorry." Avery said, setting Lucy down.

"Please don't start with me about safety."

"I-"

"Nope!" Lucy cut in.

Avery closed her mouth, frowning.

"Well, let's continue on into the death trap, shall we?" Lucy put on a big smile and started marching forwards again.

"That's-"

Avery stopped. Cut off not by a voice, but the sight of movement.

Shadow on shadow. A black soot-covered arm springing out from between two iron buckets, a smudged-black knife at the end.

The rush of power was so instant, everything else seemed slow in comparison. The knife hung in the air just over Lucy and Avery could count the centimeters the knife moved. She only let it get to two before she reacted.

Avery took a single step forward and put her hand out.

The whole world sped up rapidly in response and the knife struck Avery's outstretched palm and slid off, going wide. Avery caught Night Hag's wrist before the knife could go any further and with a small surge of power and a twist, she broke Night Hag's arm in three different places. With the tatter arm in hand, Avery yanked Night Hag out of the crevice she had fit herself in.

The monstrously pale woman didn't even have the humanity to scream. She stared at Avery with bulging eyes as if she had just noticed Avery's presence. Even then she said nothing at all, just stared accusingly.

"Good job." Lucy said, completely unperturbed by the knife that had come centimeters to stabbing her. "Now break her other limbs. Just don't kill her."

It was the smart thing to do, Avery reassured herself as she took hold of Night Hag's other arm. If Night Hag kept regenerating every time she died then they needed to just _not_ kill her. If they had any containment foam, they could've used that, but they didn't. They had to do things the old fashioned way.

CRACK. SNAP.

Night Hag barely reacted, her eyes never leaving Avery's.

Avery turned Night Hag upside down, the woman flopping about like a rag doll and broke her legs.

A low guttural sound eked out of Night Hag's lips that made Avery pause. It was a growl. Low and feral like a wolf's. The first noise Night Hag had made and it didn't even sound human.

Better to think that way, right?

Avery pushed the thought down and threw Night Hag over her shoulder, the legs and arms banging against her like sticks. Night Hag was thin. Starvation-level thin. Avery using her power to break the bones had probably been overkill.

"Alright," Lucy sighed, "Hopefully, that's one problem resolved."

The speakers crackled on and the tinny sound of chuckling came through. “Isn’t that cruel and unusual punishment? Maybe even torture.”

Jack Slash.

Lucy didn’t even need to say anything this time, Avery ignored him.

“Night Hag’s not very good at expressing herself,” Jack Slash continued, “But she can still feel pain, you know.”

Night Hag started to thrash, doing her best to headbutt Avery and failing miserably. It would’ve been pitiful if the woman hadn’t been a mass-murderer even before her time with the Slaughterhouse Nine.

Scrap and debris lifted off the ground as Lucy pulled them back into an orbit around her.

“I suppose she’s an ‘acceptable target,’ so you could do anything to her and it’d be justified. That’s the logic, right?”

Neither willing to reply, Avery and Lucy started making their way past the iron buckets, their eyes scanning every nook and cranny.

“How disappointing. Here I was looking forward to a thrilling philosophical argument, but if neither of you are going to say anything then I suppose there isn’t much point in drawing this out any further than necessary.”

Lights flickered on one at a time, painting a path to the forge.

“He’s in there. No more tricks. Promise.” A chuckle immediately followed his words and the speaker clicked off, cutting off the rest of it.

“Last chance to get out of here.” Lucy said grimly.

Avery’s jaw set. “Make sure we have an escape route.” She said before walking down the lit path.

The forge loomed over them, a metal hut where the walls concaved in at the top, its entirety focused on the hydraulic hammer in the middle of it. A conveyor belt fed into it on one side and lead out the other, but right now both sides were covered in a thick mesh grating that hid what lay within.

Avery held out the still-twitching form of Night Hag for Lucy to touch. Once she did, Night Hag was suspended in air, unable to get a grasp on anything, helpless to do anything but spin.

Avery didn’t bother with fiddling with the controls, she grasped the grating at the edges and tore it free from its hinges.

She looked inside and froze.

No more tricks, Jack Slash had promised. No surprise he had lied.

The familiar tingle of power reached Avery’s fingertips. It begged to be released. To smash and crush.

Frustration welled inside her. Frustration that she had risked her life - _Lucy’s life_ \- for _this_. Frustration that Jack Slash had found a way to taunt her without even saying anything. Frustration that there was nothing Avery could do about it because all she did was punch things.

Lucy looked over Avery’s shoulder, eyebrow quirked. “Who is this supposed to be?”

Every muscle in Avery’s body had tensed and trying to will herself to relax only made it worse. Through grit teeth, Avery lied. “I don’t know.”

Lucy gave Avery an odd look and started to approach the hostage, but stopped when Avery put a hand out in front of her.

“Let me.” Avery said. “There might be traps.”

Another lie. There wouldn’t be any more traps, this was the trap.

Avery stepped toward the man, bound and gagged, he laid flat in the center of the forge, arms and leg spread-eagle. He was tied to the anvil, but the anvil was huge, rope extended past his hands and feet and tied to each of the four corners.

He was awake. Alive. Unharmed, save for the undoubtedly painful bondage. The white of his eyes stood out from the general grime of everything about him. His clothes were dirty as if they had never been washed and though he was gagged, Avery knew that his teeth and mouth were just as foul.

Avery didn't know his name, but she knew his face. She had seen him just a day ago.

The robber. The one with the crowbar. The only other person who knew that Avery had gone too far again. That she had killed again.

The man groaned at the sight of her. He recognized her too, it seemed.

Avery glanced at Lucy who was watching apprehensively. There was no way Avery could let her find out. Not like this.

Avery leaned over him, reaching for the rope at his wrist.

"I'm saving you." She whispered as her face came close to his, "So keep your mouth shut until we get out of here, okay?"

He reeked of sweat and piss and fear, but his eyes lit up as he nodded vigorously.

As good as Avery was going to get.

Avery pulled off each rope, always keeping an eye on the hammer above, but it never came down.

He hobbled off the anvil, unsteady on his feet. With a gasp, he pulled off the gag in his mouth and gulped big mouthfuls of air.

"Are you alright?" Lucy asked, "Can you walk?"

The man coughed and nodded. "Yeah." He said, his voice hoarse and so unfamiliar to Avery now that it wasn't yelling, "I can walk."

"That's great." Lucy smiled, "Though it might be a little faster if Rev here holds onto you -"

"No, that's uh." The man stuttered, glancing quickly at Avery, "That's fine. I'll uh, I'll go with you."

Lucy didn't frown, but she wasn't smiling much more either. "Alright." She touched the man on the shoulder and he immediately started to hover in the air. He flailed for a moment until Lucy said, "It'll be a short trip out of here, sir. Just try to relax."

She didn't wait for his reply, turning back to Avery. "Now can we go?"

"Yeah." Avery muttered as she picked Lucy up and started to focus her power into her legs.

Her thoughts were elsewhere, though. Avery knew this was some part of Jack Slash's plan for her. Jack Slash hadn't chosen this criminal who knew her secret by coincidence. No, Jack Slash knew by now, further validating his belief that he could convert her. He would try to expose her even further.

Thankfully, Jack Slash wasn't a credible source, nobody would believe him, but this man that Avery had just rescued... Well he wasn't very credible, either. Just another thug on the streets.

But if he got Lucy to listen and depending on what he said...

Lucy would know.

Lucy's voice broke through Avery's thoughts.

"Are you okay?" Lucy asked, quiet, almost hesitant. Concern was clear on her face even through her mask.

"Yeah." Avery muttered. "Just fine."


	7. Chapter 7

_Avery stared, her fist still out and speckled with blood. Frozen._

_As if she could force time to do the same._

_That wasn’t supposed to happen._

_He wasn't even screaming, his mouth simply hung open and his eyes were bug-wide. He twitched sporadically like a fit of seizure and each time he did, blood spurted from what was left of his arm._

_She had tried to control herself. She had only charged for an instant. A fraction of a fraction of a second. She hadn't even aimed for a vital spot or anything like that. It should’ve just been a broken arm. This shouldn't have happened. Not like this._

_Not again._

_A noise from behind Avery shook her awake and she spun around, fist cocked again._

_It was the other criminal, the one who had attacked her with a crowbar, he moaned pitifully, his mouth stretched like melted wax._

_"P-puh-please." He stuttered, "D-don't kill me."_

_Avery stared at him dumbly._

_"I-I-I won't say a word. I p-p-promise."_

_He was afraid. So afraid he couldn't even form full sentences._

_Avery looked down at her hands. There was remarkably less blood than she had expected. Only her glove was stained. Her right glove, normally a polished white, was dotted with flecks of blood like an ocean spray._

_Another sound took Avery's attention and she looked up to see the man had fallen over trying to stand. He tried again, wobbling unsteadily before he sank to his knees. He sobbed as he saw Avery looking at him._

_"P-p-please." He begged._

_He was still dizzy from Avery's punch to his jaw. He had a concussion at the least, maybe worse. Either way, he needed to get to a hospital as soon as possible._

_"J-just don't kill me."_

_He needed to get to a hospital as soon as possible._

_"I... won't say..." He breathed heavily, forcing himself to speak, "A thing."_

_Avery stared at him and he stared back panting, words now too difficult for him._

_He might have internal bleeding. He might be brain-damaged. He might not even remember this night. He might die._

_Whatever happened to him, Avery didn't want to be know._

_Without a word, without looking back, Avery left._

* * *

* * *

* * *

His name was David, but he introduced himself as Davey.

Avery stared at him from across an up-scale living room. Davey sat on the couch, scarfing down a loaf of bread in one hand and chugging from a carton of milk in the other. The owners wouldn’t miss it.

Judging from the mess of the house, clothes scattered and valuables removed, they had evacuated long ago. Getting out alive was more important than some food or clothes, which left plenty for Davey.

When Lucy asked him if he had family to reunite with, he had replied no. When she asked about his friends, he told her they were all dead already.

When he blamed the Nine though, he gave Avery a meaningful look. An entirely too smug look for a man who reeked of piss and had only just escaped death. It was a look that said 'You owe me.'

He was scum, Avery told herself. A criminal without a friend in the world. No one would miss him.

But that was probably what Jack Slash wanted her to think.

Then again, who cared what Jack Slash thought? Avery was starting to get pretty good at ignoring the man. If she killed some random criminal scumbag, so what? She still wouldn't join the Nine. It didn't have to be a binary choice.

Avery could cash in on the bounty for Hookwolf and Night Hag. Not as big of a prize as Jack Slash or the Siberian, but still worth something. She'd be set financially and once the Protectorate learned how well she had fought off the Nine, they'd welcome her back with open arms.

She could go home and be a hero again.

And all she had to do was kill some nobody.

Davey looked up at Avery and caught her staring. He squirmed for a moment, eyes darting around the room for Lucy, but she was upstairs. With nothing better to say or do, he asked, “How you holding up?”

Avery’s smile was tight. “I’m good.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

Night Hag hung suspended over the bed, so completely still she might have been dead. Lucy frankly didn't care enough to check.

Lucy made her way to the closet and dug through it, searching for a suitable replacement for her blood-stained costume or better yet a stain remover. She didn’t really have much expectation on finding anything. She just needed to get away from Avery for a moment. She needed a moment to organize her thoughts.

Lucy knew something was going on.

She wasn't blind, wasn't dumb, wasn't born yesterday, etc., etc. But more than anything else, Lucy had known Avery long enough to know when something was wrong.

When Avery was thinking over something her jaw would tighten and relax, tighten and relax ad infinitum. It was like she was _chewing_ on her thoughts. Whatever she was currently working with must be tough as leather given how long Avery was working her jaw.

Something was worrying her. Although "worry" felt too mundane of a word. Stressing? Weighing? Weighing. Something was weighing on her.

But then when wasn't there something weighing on Avery? Lucy's mentor had a way of torturing herself over every little mistake and every minor misunderstanding. Lucy wasn't sure to call it a victim complex or savior complex.

This time seemed worse than usual, though.

Was it his fault? Davey or whatever his name was?

Davey was barely above homeless, his clothes intact but absolutely filthy. His smile was brown and yellow and his voice was harsh in a way that spoke of years of substance of abuse.

Again, Lucy wasn't blind, wasn't dumb, wasn't born yesterday, etc., etc.

She saw the looks Avery gave Davey. Sometimes it would be regret. Other times it would be hate.

There was a relationship there. A bad one by all appearances, but _something_ connected the two of them. Something that Lucy didn't know about and wasn't a part of and Lucy _hated_ that. The very idea of Avery sharing a secret with anyone but her made Lucy’s stomach turn.

Lucy had to know and odd as it was, it'd be easier to ask Davey than it would be to ask Avery.

When she had a chance, she would talk to him privately.

* * *

* * *

* * *

They walked down the street in pairs. Bonesaw holding hands with the Siberian. And Jack Slash side by side with a new and improved Skinslip.

"Nice house." Jack Slash remarked.

"Yeah," Skinslip agreed, "This is - was one of the nicer neighborhoods."

Jack Slash clapped a hand over the shoulder of the Nine's newest recruit. It was one of the only exposed bits of Skinslip. Everything from the neck down had layers and layers of skin that dragged along the floor for several meters. From afar he looked like a giant fleshy slug with the comparatively small head of a man.

He looked ridiculous, a fact that Jack Slash delighted in. Getting killed by an Endbringer? That was noble, a serious respectful death. Getting killed by fleshy recreation of Jabba the Hutt? Pathetic, something their friends and family would be ashamed to admit.

Jack Slash leaned in closer till the two of them were shoulder to shoulder. "Ready for your big reveal?"

Skinslip was nervous, chewing on his lip. A lackluster power coupled with a lackluster life, it spoke of a history of failures and was probably why even after triggering he had turned to drugs as an escape.

"Remember, there's no need to rush..." Jack let the words fade, injecting just the tiniest twinge of disappointment in his tone.

Skinslip took the bait perfectly.

"No, I'm ready. I can do this."

Jack Slash gave him a reassuring squeeze and a smile, "Knew I could count on you."

Skinslip nodded once more, his face taking on a more stern look - his "man" face - as he planted his feet firmly on the lawn of the house.

Jack Slash walked forward along with Bonesaw and Siberian, sniggering. Bonesaw eyed him knowingly, a smile on her lips, though she knew enough to not say much more. Even the Siberian seemed to be smirking, though that might have simply been Jack Slash's imagination.

As pathetic as he was, Skinslip was going to make his big debut here. He was going to help them get their hands on Rev.

Night Hag had led them here, though she didn't know it. Her blood had been altered by Bonesaw to emit a pheromone that Bonesaw could easily follow.

Rev probably wouldn't expect the Nine to find her so easily. She wouldn't be ready and Jack Slash certainly wasn't going to wait for her to be.

"Do it." Jack Slash.

Skinslip thrust his arms out to the sides, the folds of his skin billowing out of him, almost like a peacock and then some. It extended forth from him, blocking out the sun in a matter of seconds.

An explosion erupted from a side of the house and Rev appeared from the wreckage, but she was too late. The skin had grown too far, it formed a bubble along the perimeter of the lawn, encasing the house, the Nine and Rev.

Rev yelled something obscene and sprinted out of the house. She charged at the wall of skin, her fist cocked, yelling again, this time more incoherent and primal but that yell quickly turned to a wild scream. Even from the edge of the lawn, Jack Slash could make out the distinct splash of red that meant blood.

"Well done." Jack Slash said to the Siberian who had placed her hand directly on the face of Skinslip.

Rev was no longer screaming. Or at least not loud enough for Jack Slash to hear. She had dropped to her knees, cradling what was left of her arm.

It would've been the perfect moment to finish her off right then and there and Jack Slash imagined it in vivid gory detail. But that wasn't what they were here for. Not yet at least.

"Is it my turn yet?" Bonesaw piped up, hopping from foot to foot excitedly.

"Just a moment, dear." Jack Slash said patiently.

Another figure emerged from the house, her cape billowing as she ran out. Connect. Rev's friend.

Connect nearly fell in her desperation to reach Rev, her hands going ahead of her for a moment in a four-limbed run.

Bonesaw laughed wildly. "Oh look at her go! Please, please can I do it now?"

Jack Slash put a hand on the girl and steadied her. "Savor the moment, dear. The build-up is just as important as the climax."

She grinned at him and turned back to watch as Connect finally reached the side of Rev.

There was the obligatory crying, sobbing and hugging. Jack Slash mostly tuned it out. He was tempted to attack then and there, just to make them hurry up.

Eventually they managed to pull themselves back together. Rev was too weak to stand, but Connect helped with that. After a moment of make-shift bandaging, she lifted Rev up with her power and made her way back to the house this time more slowly, watching Jack Slash and his compatriots.

Bonesaw waved and Connect didn't even have the decency to wave back.

"Rude." Bonesaw huffed.

"Very." Jack Slash nodded.

Even the Siberian growled her agreement.

Rev and Connect made it back to the house and finally disappeared from view.

Once they were gone, Bonesaw immediately turned on Jack Slash with a scowl, "You're not going to stop me now, are you?"

Jack Slash chuckled, "Give it five seconds."

Bonesaw pouted, folding her arms. "Fine."

She started counting.

"Five."

Bonesaw's foot tapped against the ground with the rhythm of a waterfall.

"Four."

Skinslip shifted uncomfortably, trying to turn his head away from the hand of the Siberian atop it, but failed to even budge her.

"Three."

Bonesaw unfolded her arms and put her hands on her stomach as if she had an ache there.

"Two."

Jack Slash pulled a knife from his belt, inspecting the edge of it.

"One."

Bonesaw's grin was huge, stretching from ear to ear.

"Zero!" She cried out happily, her jaw dropping open like a snake's as she squeezed her stomach. A thick purple smoke poured out of her mouth like a river and every time she squeezed the river surged.

Smoke rolled past Jack Slash and he took a deep breath. He was immune to the effects, of course. It smelled of frosted cake. A pleasant smell normally, but in this quantity it became sickeningly sweet.

The smoke started thick, but as it spread it thinned considerably. It didn't obscure, but tinged the air to a purple haze. By the time it reached the house, it was only a faint mist.

After a minute, the smoke began to peter out to a dribble and Bonesaw gave herself a few more squeezes to clear it out. She burped on the last one, a puff of smoke coming out and she blushed. “Excuse me.”

“No worries, dear,” Jack Slash put a hand on her head and mussed her hair, “You did an excellent job.”

Bonesaw preened with his praise, leaning into his hand.

“Now shall we go pay a visit to Auntie Rev?”

“Yes, please!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but it was the right time to end it.
> 
> This is the last leg of the story. Next chapter will be much longer.


	8. Chapter 8

The doorbell rang and Avery called out for the house to hear. “I’ll get it!”

There was no reply, but Avery’s mom was probably busy cooking.

Avery kicked off her bed and went downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. The smell of cake greeted her below and she couldn’t help but grin. If mom was trying to surprise her, then she had already failed.

The doorbell sounded off again.

“Coming already!” Avery yelled. She made her way to the door and reached to open it, but for some reason her hand wouldn’t grasp the handle. She floundered for a moment, before trying with her other hand and finally managed to pulled the door open.

There were two people at the door.

And that was all Avery could figure out. They were… blurs, shifting colors whose shape she couldn’t pin down. The very most she could tell was that one was tall and the other was short. Wide or thin, light or dark or anything else, she had no idea.

Avery squinted, maybe she needed glasses?

“Aren’t you going to invite your father in?” The man - her father, spoke. His features snapped into place. A sharp jaw with heavy stubble, her father regarded her with a hard stare. Though, when was he not staring? The man had eyes like a hawk, he’d wear down perps in the interrogation room with that gaze and he had never turned it off. Not even at home, not even with his daughter. As he looked at Avery, she immediately looked away.

“Uh, yes sir.” Avery quickly stepped back, holding her hand out to pick up his coat and he handed it to her as he strode into the foyer.

The second person - the short one - followed him and Avery snuck a glance at it, her brow knitting again. Who was that again?

Her father picked up on her confusion and put a hand on the short person’s head. “Don’t you recognize your sibling?”

Avery blinked, the figure almost came into focus, the colors beginning to align but it failed to hold. The second person remained hazy. She looked up at her father and started to speak, but he cut her off.

“Your sister.” He said with a certainty that felt right. “Say hello to her.”

The pieces came together and Avery could finally make out her little sister. The good-for-nothing girl everyone told her to get along with. The dumb crybaby who always clung to her and got in her way. Avery couldn’t help but scowl.

Her father chuckled, his chest rumbling with the deep bass of the sound, “You don’t have to say hi, if you don’t want to.”

Avery stared at him for a moment. Was that his idea of a joke? Or more likely it was another test. Taking the easy way out was never the right answer, Avery had learned that quick.

Avery set her father’s coat on the rack and as she did she uttered a “Hey Holly.”

For a moment that seemed to be enough, but her father’s voice came back stern. “Young lady.” Those two words were enough to make Avery freeze in place. “When you speak to someone you face them. Now do it again.”

“Yessir.” Avery mumbled as she turned around.

“What was that? Clearer, girl.”

“Yes, sir.” Avery barked as she faced him.

“Good, now say hi to your sister.”

Avery looked at Holly, her sister looking oddly happy as if she was taking pleasure in Avery’s reprimand. Was this what it took to cheer her up? She was usually so glum and weepy.

“Hi Holly.”

“Good. Now say hi back, Holly.”

Holly smiled, again a strange sight to see. It almost felt like her mouth didn’t fit with the rest of her face. She didn’t say hi back, that much was expected. Holly was always so damn shy. She tugged at father’s shirt and whined piteously, “Daddy, I forgot my sister’s name.”

Avery winced, waiting for the slap, but it never came. Instead her father leaned down and whispered something in Holly’s ear. Whatever it was, it wiped the smile off Holly’s face. She was back to her ol’ gloomy self.

“I mean, I forgot my sister’s name. Sir.” Holly added.

Avery rolled her eyes, “It’s Avery, you dummy.”

“Oh!” Holly began to smile before remembering herself, “Hi Avery. And how old are you, again?”

“Eight,” Avery rolled her eyes, “Can’t you remember anything, dummy.”

“That’s good, girls.” Avery’s father nodded to himself. “Though you two should get along better. You especially, Avery. Don’t call your sister mean names.”

Avery looked away, though she didn’t say anything.

“Right then, you two play.” Her father said, “Avery, where’s your mother?”

“She’s in the kitchen, sir.”

“Ah, of course.” Her father chuckled again and left the foyer, leaving Avery alone with Holly.

Avery regarded her sister with a sigh, but held out her hand anyway. "Come on, dummy."

Holly nodded and reached past Avery's hand to grasp her at the elbow.

"Sure thing, big sis." Holly said in a strangely chipper voice.

Before Avery could question it, a white powder bloomed in front of her. Avery pulled away, but gasped in shock, sucking in lungfuls of the powder.

Immediately, the world started to dim and Avery sank to her knees.

Holly's mouth detached from her face, hovering just in front of her face as it twisted into a wide grin. "I just need to fix your arm up before you bleed to death."

Avery collapsed.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Lucy buried her head under the sofa pillow and let out a high-pitched squeal. She pulled back, gulping air and did it again.

Avery was just _so cool_. So cool, words failed to express it, all Lucy could do was scream her excitement over and over. It was something the neighbors had gotten accustomed to, but Lucy had heard enough from her mom to at least muffle it.

Lucy screamed into the pillow again with a kick of the legs. She _knew_ a superhero know. Lucy giggled wildly at the thought, maybe she could be Avery’s sidekick. Her ordinary friend helping out whenever she can. Even sometimes ending up as the damsel in distress. Lucy's giggling intensified.

She had to find a way to get in touch with Avery. Let her know that Lucy knew her secret.

Lucy flipped over on the couch, biting her thumbnail ferociously as her mind changed tack in a heartbeat. She had to be careful, though. She couldn't just come out and _blurt_ it out. That would just make a mess of things, questions would be asked, misunderstandings made.

How could she phrase it without coming off as a total weirdo?

Sorry, I followed you into the bathroom and saw you changing? Why did I follow you? Well, you know I've been following you since school started and I LOVE YOU and you being a SUPERHERO only makes me LOVE YOU MORE.

Lucy's nail snapped off and she spat it out. Well, obviously _that_ wouldn't work. She moved onto another nail.

Maybe she could "accidentally" discover Avery's secret again. But this time, more... obviously. So Avery would know, too. Lucy could play it off, she was sure. She would just replay through the emotions of shock and excitement, it was easy enough to remember, she was still feeling it.

And then how would Avery react? Would she be upset that her secret got out? Would she try to shut Lucy up? Lucy bit her lip, could Avery be _blackmailed_?

Lucy threw herself into the pillow and screamed again.

Lucy was ASHAMED. She took a fold of skin on her wrist and pinched and twisted until it turned bright red. Bad Lucy! Bad! What a terrible idea! If Lucy did any of that, Avery would _hate_ her and the very thought of that possibility sent shivers down Lucy's spine.

She had to calm down. She had to refocus.

She went over the facts.

Avery Siddell was two years older than Lucy, a senior at Lucy's high school and perhaps the most beautiful girl in the world. Avery was the superhero, Rev.

Rev was a Ward. The Wards were part of the Protectorate. The Protectorate protected the identities of their heroes.

If _they_ knew about Lucy, then what would they do? How would they shut her up?

Pay her off? Ship her away? Maybe even kill her?

The possibilities tumbled in her mind, each more fantastic than the last, but none of them ever ended well for her. The Protectorate wouldn’t care that Avery and Lucy were _meant to be together_. Bureaucracy could never understand love. No, she couldn’t let the Protectorate know she knew Avery’s secret. Which by extension meant she couldn’t let Avery know.

Lucy bit clean through her fingernail and spat it out viciously, the nail sailing well over the couch end.

What good was that? How did this get her closer to Avery?

“Hello there.”

Lucy whipped around and looked up at the figure standing above the couch. The figure was leaning on the back on the couch, looking down at her, but the details were so hard to pinpoint.

“I’m your father.”

Lucy squinted, though the figure didn’t come in any clearer. Mom had never liked talking about dad.

“Your mother?”

Memories flashed through Lucy’s mind. The worn eyes, the raspy voice from the smoking, the faded color of her skin. The images were clear and yet none of it seemed to fit over the figure’s face.

“Your friend?”

She thought of Avery, always so far away.

“Your enemy.”

Lucy frowned as sparks tied the man’s face together and she was on the cusp of recognizing him.

“A bad man.”

Her frown started to deepen as his face started to form. His skin took on a deathly pale pallor, his hair long, greasy and matted against his neck. He was a gangly and thin like a man who had been put on the rack and stretched out.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, “How ordinary.”

Lucy lay frozen as the man loomed over, the smell of him just beginning to reach her. He exuded a damp noxious smell like wet cigarettes. The sheen of sweat on his skin, made the edge of his forehead shine.

That mix of light and smell finally drove home the reality that there was a stranger in Lucy’s house.

As if catching up, all her reflexes kicked off at once. Fight, flight and scream jammed into her brain simultaneously. Lucy wheezed like a balloon losing air and rolled off the couch even as her arms went out to knock the man away. She missed completely and toppled off the couch, her limbs tangling from the conflicting commands.

A stranger in her home. A man she had never seen. _Intruded_. Which meant criminal, which meant dangerous. Which meant she was going to die.

Lucy’s heart thundered in her chest, she felt like she was trapped in molasses, she moved so slowly. One arm unfold, one leg bend. Tremble the whole way. She untangled herself one limb at a time, her breath hitching and squeaking at once, working to get up in volume. She should start screaming. She should start running.

Walk and talk was still too much for her brain, she could only manage to crawl and sob. If she had at least crawled _quickly_ or sobbed _loudly_ , but no Lucy couldn’t even do that much. She was stuck with baby’s first motor movement and a low keening sound coming from her throat like a biplane crashing. Pitifully slowly, she crawled away.

“Wow.” The man said, blinking in amazement.

“Wow.” He said again and then he started laughing. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen something as pathetic as _that_.”

Her head bumped against a table with a bang and the impact more than the pain jarred her awake. She should focus on one thing at a time. Screaming probably wouldn’t do too much good, there’d be no one around to hear or care. Better to get up and run.

So she got up (shakily, unsteadily, terribly) and she ran (hobbled, limped, fell-in-a-direction).

The backdoor. She needed to get to the back door.

Lucy stumbled her way into the kitchen, her feet slapping against the cold tiles. Here was the backdoor just on the other side of the room, her body just needed to hold together for just a few moments more and she’d be outside. What would being outside in the backyard do? Lucy still wasn’t sure, but that was her plan so far and she didn’t have time to reevaluate.

She came upon the door, but her fingers trembled as she worked at the handle. Was the lock left or right? She couldn’t fucking remember. She had done it so many times before it had been automatic and now she had no idea. Was she locking it or unlocking it? Each time it clicked she tugged at the door, but got nothing for it. Had she broken the fucking door?

“I hope this gets interesting soon, dear.” The man called out from out of sight. “I mean this is supposed to be the defining moment of a cape’s life.”

Lucy looked over her shoulder and she saw him at the doorway of the kitchen, his white teeth framed in a broad pale-lipped smile. Again her body arrested control from her and she screamed. A full-volume ear-splitting scream that warbled at the end into a choked sob. She turned back to the backdoor and started slapping it with the flat of her hand as if to startle it open.

“A boring beginning makes for a boring cape and so far this is _very boring_.”

“Rev!” Lucy screamed again, “Rev! Help me!”

“Ah.” The man smiled wider. “So you were a fan of hers before you even triggered.”

“Rev, please!” She was screaming the words at the top of her lungs. Her throat was raw. “Please!”

He stepped closer, a knife appearing in his hand.

“Avery! Avery, help me!”

The man stopped, his mouth hung open. Not from shock, though, but pure unadulterated delight. “Avery?” He asked.

Lucy tried to breathe and sobbed instead. Avery? Had she said Avery aloud?

“Did you…” The man pointed his knife at her, chuckling, “You just gave away her secret identity.”

No, there was a reasonable explanation, Lucy wanted to say. It was a coincidence, a slip of the tongue, and if it was Lucy didn’t know anything anyways. She was just a normal stupid stupid stupid girl. Nothing she said should be taken seriously or remembered or anything. Ignore her, forget her, she doesn’’t exist. 

Idiot. Stupid fucking idiot.

You don’t deserve her.

Lucy closed her eyes and let herself fall to pieces.

* * *

* * *

* * *

When Avery was eleven years old her father put her in his truck, got his rifle and took her hunting. His idea of a good experience for a girl just hitting puberty. The gun had been too heavy for her, so he let her lie down and propped the rifle on a sandbag.

A long lecture ensued and care had been taken to make sure she could withstand the kickback of the gun. Her father had laid down next to her, constantly adjusting her and the rifle until finally he was satisfied.

He made her wait like that for hours, his hand tightening on her shoulder every time she started to fidget. A wordless reprimand that Avery had no hope of talking back to.

When a deer finally came into the clearing, lured by the scent they had spread earlier, Avery's whole body was stiff. It was a clear shot, the deer totally unaware.

It was a male, its antlers long and worn from age. Its head craned back and forth as if it could sense something watching it.

"Don't let it suffer." Her father whispered to her. "It deserves that much."

Avery didn't respond. Didn't nod.

This wasn’t her first time firing a gun. But that had been at the range and not out in the wild. Not with a living thing at the other end of the sights. Avery did her best to ignore the mounting pressure and the rush of adrenaline to meet it.

Avery took a deep breath and pulled the lever back, the click of a bullet being chambered answering her. She took her time lining up the iron sights and steadied herself, exhaling.

The deer turned its head, its eyes meeting Avery’s.

Avery squeezed the trigger.

The crack of the gun was deafening. That single sound filled her head and like a machine overloaded, her mind blanked.

For a moment, there was nothing. No father, no deer, no anything.

Nothing, but Avery.

When the world inched its way back, Avery saw the deer had fallen.

Her father squeezed her shoulder and didn't so much as help her up as he did haul her up. Avery's feet were shaky from lying for so long, but her father kept her straight.

"Good work." He muttered quietly, not even looking away from the deer. "Let's see the damage."

A little more gently, he led her away from their vantage point. The forest had come to a silence, the chirping of birds halted and critters scurried into hiding. The only sound was the crinkle of leaves and branches under their feet as they approached the deer.

It was less blood than Avery had expected. Although her expectations had probably been unrealistic to begin with. There were no fountains of blood or gory foot-long sprays of red. Just a small hole at the top of the deer's head and a dribble of blood forming a small pool below. Its eyes stared blankly forward.

"Scrambled its brains." He looked at Avery and the edge of his lips turned up by a fraction. "Couldn't have done it better myself."

Avery's smile was a hundred times her father's.

* * *

Avery woke to the crack of a gunshot. It was a strange sound, not echoing as it did on the range, not snapping as it did out in the forest. Here it seemed to rumble like a vibration that went through the whole house, transmitting itself through the floor into her body.

Through the house. Her home.

Avery sat up quickly, eyes wide. She was in her bedroom, her bed neat except for where she had lain on it.

“How you feeling sis?”

Avery whirled on the voice and saw Holly sitting at her desk, her feet sticking out from the end of the chair.

“You look-”

Avery clambered across her bed and took a hold of Holly, pulling her down to the floor.

“Hey!” Holly cried out, but Avery clamped her hand over the girl’s mouth.

The little crybaby could never make it easy for Avery, she squirmed and wriggled, prying at Avery’s hand with surprising strength until enough of her mouth was free for her to speak.

“ _What_ has got you so wound up.” Holly asked, her tone hard, sounding so much older.

Avery shushed her and got a sullen glare that demanded answers or _else_. Never easy.

“Didn’t you hear it?” Avery whispered.

“Hear _what_?”

“Dummy.” Avery peeked through the bottom of her bed, keeping an eye on the door. “The gunshot.”

“Oh.” Holly seemed to relax. “Right, yeah, I totally heard that.”

As if to confirm, a second shot rang out, the wood of the floor trembling with the sound.

Then another shot, short on its heels. Then a fourth and fifth, picking up speed until it struck the eighth shot and stopped dead. The vibrations lingered, the air hazy.

“Was there more gunfire?” Holly asked lazily, unaware of the severity of their situation. Father hadn’t taken her shooting yet, she wouldn’t know what a gun could do.

“Yeah.” Avery answered as she curled tighter around Holly.

“Well, is it done yet?”

Avery waited, feeling the stillness of silence. She counted Mississippi's in her head until she hit thirty and still the house slumbered. No gunshots. Not even a creak on the stairs. Whoever was shooting was done and they weren’t coming up. Not yet at least.

“Maybe,” Avery replied finally.

"Maybe?"

Avery pushed herself up to a crouch and peered over the bed. "Maybe." She balled her fists. "I'll go check."

"That sounds like a really good plan."

Avery turned to Holly. "Stay here, okay? Don't come out until I get you."

Holly nodded vigorously, "Sure thing, sis."

Avery kept low as she went around the bed and put herself against the door. She placed her ear against the frame and waited.

Still nothing. If anything it was _too_ quiet.

Avery opened the door, turning the knob slowly and pulled it open a crack. The sun had fallen and the hallway was dark save for a glow of light that rose from below the stairs. Avery stepped out into the hallway and half-expecting for some monster to spring from one of the rooms or even drop down on her head from above. She glanced up just to be sure and immediately felt ridiculous. And a little relieved.

She stepped lightly to the staircase, mindful of the older floorboards. Step by step she made her way down, slowly, carefully. She reached the bottom without so much as a squeak and then using the banister as cover, she looked to where the light was coming from.

Flourescent bulbs pulsed a sterile white, reflecting off the tiled floor of the kitchen. With equal brightness blood shone. A thick puddle that seeped above and between tiles. It seemed remarkably smooth like a sculpted layer of paint instantly applied.

The blood spread smoothly until it pressed against the thick soles of boots. A man stood in the pile of blood unmoving. His arms hung limply at his sides, a pistol held only barely in his fingers.

It was Avery's father. He stared upwards at the ceiling, his expression blank.

Beneath him, half-propped against the counter was...

"Mom." Avery whispered. Even pockmarked and stained red, her face was unmistakable.

Her father whipped around to face her on a dime, his gun held out in a stage-perfect shooter's pose.

As Avery's father made her out, he lowered the gun, though he didn't relax. His neck was strung out, veins visible and when he spoke it was through grit teeth.

"Go to your room, Avery."

Normally Avery would have obeyed. Nodded, sir'd and marched back up to her room. But so little of this was normal.

"W-what about M-"

"SHUT UP!" He roared and Avery cringed.

He put a hand against his skull. "Don't call her that." He looked down where the blood had reached him. "Just..." His hands dropped to his sides again. "Forget it."

Avery stared with wide eyes, as if the wider they were the less surreal this would seem. She was dreaming, she had to be. So many details didn't fit together. The house too quiet, too still. The blood an impossible shade of red that reflected the light too easily. Her father _showing emotion_. None of it made sense, none of it could be real.

Distantly, like a woman wailing, there was the blare of sirens.

Her father perked up like a man jolted and threw himself against the kitchen wall on the far side of the corpse. His hands moved quickly, retrieving a magazine from his belt and reloading the pistol in less than a second. He muttered to himself, huffing and puffing.

"Wonder who they'll send. Hope it's Gibbons. Fucking Gibbons, the prick."

"Dad...?" Avery asked quietly, stepping closer.

He wheeled on her, his face twisted and red, "Go upstairs, Avery! Goddamnit, don't make me say it again, girl!"

The wailing drew nearer. It was several sirens, mismatched and piled atop each other until it forced one singular mess of alarm.

"Dad, please." Avery walked to the cusp of the kitchen, stopping just short of the pool of blood. "Please, you're scaring me."

Her eyes exploded with stars and Avery found herself on her knees with the taste of iron on her lips.

There was yelling and shouting. The sirens were upon them, the world flashing red and blue. The house had been so quiet before and now it was being overrun with noise.

A pressure pushed against her stomach and Avery slid along the tiled floor, blood soaking into her clothes like a mop.

She looked up and saw her father, his pistol drawn and pointed at the front door.

"D-dad." Avery whispered.

He turned to look at her, a wild animation to his eyes, flickering and trembling. Avery reached out for him, but he pulled away.

There was a crash at the door and without an instant of hesitation, he snapped back with a shot.

The bullet found its mark.

Holly toppled off the staircase, limp as a doll, dress and hair fluttering. Her face was locked in an expression of confusion, her brow knitted and her mouth open.

Avery watched her fall and screamed. Screamed and screamed until the world went away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on some of the stuff in this chapter for two months, way back from chapter 2. Of course, a lot was changed, added and removed. But I'm really happy to get the work I've been holding back finally out there. Honestly, if I counted all the words I've cut from the story over the course of its release, I'd probably have another 10,000 words.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy. Next chapter _should_ be the last with maybe an epilogue.


	9. Chapter 9

Dragon took a moment to appreciate the silence of her lab. Normally this place would have been a whirl of activity, machine arms assembling and welding while she supervised from afar. There was always something to work on, something to improve or fix. Even now there still was, but nonetheless Dragon was captivated by the rare stillness of her lab.

A metal hulk was suspended in the air at the center of the lab. A cylindrical tube with metal wings that doubled as boosters as well as solar panels. Dragon had done most of the assembling, but it had been Colin's design.

Dragon turned to the only sound in the room - the beeping of life support - where Colin lay in a makeshift bed. He was laid up with dozens of wires each with their own separate but equally important task. Dragon stroked his head, feeling the rub of his shaven hair. His forehead was damp and she could make out the flick of his eyes beneath their lids.

Dreaming. One of the more romantic peculiarities of humans. A part of them so wholly out of their control, yet so fundamental to them. Dragon smiled to herself, she would never get to experience the nightmare of finding herself at school naked or falling out of an airplane or any of the other staple scenarios, but nevertheless Dragon felt she understood dreams.

She leaned down, putting her forehead against Colin's. His breath tickled her lips, a steady reminder of his life. Colin was stable. His breathing, heart rate, brain activity and mechanics all regular and working. He would wake up sore, stiff and entirely unused to his new body, but he would wake up.

She wondered if he was dreaming of her.

More likely, he was devising strategies to beat the Slaughterhouse Nine even as he slept.

Dragon started to pull away, but stopped. With a small pause like a shy schoolgirl, she kissed his forehead.

"You probably won't like this," she whispered so quietly he wouldn't have heard even if he had been awake, "But I'm going out again."

Colin slept peacefully.

"If it's any consolation, I'm using your plan." Dragon stood, turning her head towards the winged metal cylinder at the center of her lab.

"No more holding back."

* * *

* * *

* * *

"Avery."

"Aaavery."

"A. Ve. Ry."

Avery's eyes were crusted and glued shut. She tried to rub her eyes, but nothing happened. Not that rubbing her eyes didn't do anything, but that Avery _didn't do anything_. She hadn't moved, in fact she couldn't even feel anything below her neck.

Avery groaned, but what she had meant to say was "what the fuck?"

"Oh goodie, you're awake!"

Bonesaw. A growl rose in Avery's throat and the bio-tinker giggled in response.

"No need to be so hostile, Avery!"

A tiny hand pinched at her cheek and Avery tried to bite it, but her head lolled uselessly to the side and the hand disappeared. Her eyes still wouldn't open and dread touched Avery as she wondered just what had happened. She thought back to the last thing she could remember: A wall coming down around the house. A wall of flesh and Avery had tried to do _something_ about it. The Nine had come again and Avery had to fight them off. But what had happened after that? Her thoughts floundered, the pieces there, but not fitting.

More giggling. "Has anyone ever told you, you're like a cat?"

 _I'll kill you,_ Avery thought, but groaned incoherently. This wasn’t the time to be figuring out how she got here, what she needed was a plan on how to get out.

"An angry street cat. All fang and claw." The hand came back, pinching the other cheek. "But once you get past the tough exterior, you get to the squishy, mushy interior."

Avery jerked violently with what she could, her head rocking back hard against the surface behind her and she heard a satisfying crunch as the material folded. Sounded like metal. Metal table?

"Okay, I get it, Avery. No need to show off, your exterior is pretty tough," Bonesaw sighed, "I've already gone through a few drills and saws."

Avery tried to raise her head to slam it down again, but instead it rolled limply to the side. Her head was the only thing she could still move and it felt as heavy as a truck.

"Okay, I'm a little curious now." The hand slapped at her cheek lightly like it was trying to wake her up. "Why aren't you opening your eyes?"

Avery paused just as confused as Bonesaw.

"Oh, ha! HAHAHAHA!" Bonesaw laughed wildly with not a care for volume. It was a completely uncontrolled sound, spontaneous and long-winded. When it finally died down, Bonesaw was wheezing, catching her breath. "Oh, jeez. That's hilarious."

The hand touched Avery's face and she flinched, but something metal clamped around her skull from both sides and held her in place. Forcibly still, the hand scraped away the crust covering Avery's eyes.

She blinked them open, clearing the last of the grit away.

Bonesaw loomed over Avery, her huge grin completely occupying her vision. Avery's head was still clamped tight and she couldn't look away.

"I bet you thought I did something to your eyes, right?" Bonesaw leered at Avery, "You probably thought I had scooped them out or something."

Avery glared and said nothing. Secretly, she was relieved. Despite how bad her situation was, at least she could still see.

"It's funny. Getting credit for something you didn't even do." Bonesaw pulled away, moving to a counter where an array of tools and sharp objects lay. They were in the kitchen and Avery was laid up on a metal trolley like a supper meal.

"Though at the same time, it's a little dissatisfying. If I get the blame for something, I'd like it to be for something I actually did." Bonesaw turned back to Avery with a strange device in hand, it looked like a whisk with sharpened ends. "So, I think I _will_ take your eyes out," Bonesaw said with a shrug, "Probably not right away, but y'know at some point."

Adrenaline rushed to Avery in an instant, setting her teeth on edge and with pure primal reflex, Avery wrenched her head free from the clamp, metal tearing with an awful shriek.

“Oh my!” Bonesaw exclaimed excitedly.

"Fff... uck... you..." Avery managed to say finally, her tongue thick as a slug.

"Language, Avery, language" Bonesaw wagged a finger, "But it’s good to see you still have enough of your mental faculties to speak. I was almost worried for a second, you got a pretty heavy dose of the hallucinogens."

"Kuh... kill... you."

"Let me tell you,” Bonesaw went on as if Avery hadn’t spoken, “It would have been an awful waste if your brain had been mushed. I'm sure there's a lot of interesting things going on in there."

Avery thrashed again, this time taking a chunk out of the table. The piece went flying across the room, shooting just to the right of Bonesaw and collapsing a kitchen cabinet as it blast through.

Bonesaw looked over her shoulder where the shrapnel had decimated the kitchen. "Okay, maybe you need more drugs," she admitted.

Hefting her tool a little closer to herself, Bonesaw stepped to the table careful, but her caution set something in Avery aflame. With no other outlet for all the energy that had built up in her, Avery let loose with her head, swinging wildly back and forth. Metal splintered off the table, none with quite the same amount of force as the first chunk, but it wasn’t exactly light either. Bonesaw covered her head with an arm blocking the more minor shards that went flying. A few managed to embed in her arm, but she hardly seemed to notice.

There was a large hole in the trolley now, wide enough that Avery could probably slip through shoulders and all. If she had the leverage to push herself.

Bonesaw reached into her pockets and pulled out a vial full of powder. “Time for you to go back to sleep, I think.” She ducked a hunk of shrapnel as she poured the powder out into the palm of her hand. “A nice relaxing nap.”

Avery grit her teeth, raising her head as high as it could. “Fuck. You.”

She slammed her head downward and the trolley buckled as the last connecting bit of metal shattered. The top half of the table was no longer connected to the legs and what little was left of the table immediately bent against Avery’s weight. She slid off the trolley, wincing as her head struck the ground first while the rest of her body spilled sideways. Bonesaw let out a girlish shriek as she hopped clear of Avery’s flailing limbs and the powder popped out of her hand harmlessly.

“Shoot! Darn!” Bonesaw stomped her foot, “You made me spill it! You got my dress dusty and wrecked my operating table to delay me for what, _ten seconds?_ ” She reached into her skirt and pulled out another vial, “I have more, _obviously._ ”

Avery didn’t respond though the feeling in her mouth was starting to return. Instead she raised her head again, her face reddening as her heart pounded thunderously. An intense heat muddled her thoughts, but Avery had a moment to appreciate the slow drop of Bonesaw’s jaw as it dawned on her what was about to happen. They locked eyes and this time, Avery was the one who smiled.

Bonesaw turned to run, her mouth agape as a single high-pitched syllable stretched out of it, “JAAAA-”

Avery brought her head down like a hammer and the earth shattered.

Noise and motion came at her from all sides. The tile floor shattered into a million pieces, wood and metal piping came flying from impossible directions while the house screamed like a thousand lost souls. A weightlessness took hold of Avery and for a moment she was hovering in the air, the ground suddenly absent. And then as if in retaliation, the house folded in on her. The ceiling buckled and walls crumbled and every ordinary household object was sent soaring. Pots flattened into pans against her, books bounced off, and even a bathroom sink cracked against her skull.

The chaos was sensory overload and with no way to process it all, Avery blacked out.

* * *

Avery coughed herself awake. Dirt covered her face, fine and granulate and she huffed haggardly. There was an awful groan in response and Avery forced herself still as she took in where she was. It wasn’t total darkness, but it was close, there was polluted grey light coming from _somewhere_ , but she couldn’t make it out. She was buried beneath a mountain of rubble, a wooden beam pressing down against the side of her skull. She tried to turn her head to shift the weight and the groaning came back full force and she quickly stopped.

Trapped.

Avery tried to move the rest of her body and got nothing for her efforts.

Still paralyzed.

Was it permanent? Avery immediately banished the thought. She couldn’t even consider it. Whatever drug Bonesaw had put in her would wear off, it had to.

How long had it been? Avery had no idea, but it couldn’t have been long. There was no way she would have just been left here untouched for more than an hour. Even if Avery had caught Bonesaw in the explosion, there was still Jack Slash and the Siberian roaming about and there was no way they would have left the rubble - and Avery - undisturbed. At most, five minutes had passed and more likely it had only been a few seconds.

Avery moved her head again and the awful groan returned. She did her best to ignore the sound as well as the indescribably unpleasant sensation of wood scraping against her skull. It didn't break skin or draw blood, but it sure as hell was uncomfortable.

Avery shifted so that now her forehead bore the weight of the beam instead of her temple. She wasn't sure if that was really better, but nothing had collapsed just yet and that was _something_.

She could feel the throb of power in her ears. It urged to be released, but Avery hesitated. She really didn't think she could dig her way out with just her head. In all likelihood she would just put herself deeper in the hole.

But what else was there to do?

“Heeey,” a voice called out. A man’s. Muffled by the rubble, but distinct enough to make out

A puff of dust blew past Avery’s face and she wrinkled her nose, holding back a sneeze. The sensation passed and Avery very quietly let out a breath.

“Hey. Anyone there?”

It wasn’t Jack Slash, that was certain. Not nearly smug enough. Avery stretched her memory trying to match the voice. It was familiar, like an acquaintance you didn’t really know. Someone you saw, but never really spoke to.

If it was someone trying to kill her, Avery would’ve remembered. With that in mind, she yelled back, “I’m here!”

The grey light above her shifted, darkening as something moved in front of it.

“Who’s down there!” The voice came, louder and closer.

“Rev!”

There was a thoughtful pause from her would-be rescuer and Avery wondered if she had just thrown herself back into danger.

“Alright!” The voice yelled, making up its mind, “Hold on, I don’t think you’re too deep.”

Groaning and crashing ensued and the weight of the beam _increased_ enough for Avery to shout, “Careful!”

“Sorry,” the voice said and the pressure quickly shifted. The man huffed and puffed, moving rubble aside in a sloppily loud fashion, but no cave-ins started. The first cracks of real light broke through and Avery felt the warmth of sunlight on her skin. The sky was clear above her, an astonishing blue color and certainly not one covered by flesh.

The hole widened and the man appeared, his face over the edge. It was Davey, his whole head slick with sweat and grime, he looked like he had been rolling in mud, though considering where Avery was, she was probably no better. He stuck a hand through the hole, reaching for her. “Take my hand.”

Avery frowned and tried to get her hands to budge. There might have been a twitch of movement in a finger, but then again it might have been just the movement of rubble, either way it wasn’t enough. “I can’t. You need to dig deeper.”

Davey let out an enormous sigh of disgust and he wiped at his brow, leaving a messy wet streak of dirt. “Fucking hell. You’re supposed to be the superhero.”

Avery’s teeth locked together with an audible clack. “ _Fine_ ,” she said harshly, “Just tell me what’s above me, then.”

Davey pulled away from the hole, disappearing from view, but his voice came through clearly, “Nothing much. Just bricks and wood and shit. I moved most of it, but there’s still a big beam on you.”

“Alright,” Avery grit her teeth, letting her power reach her, “Stand back. Way back.”

The man didn’t need to be asked twice, he immediately clomped off to a good distance while Avery focused on the point where her forehead met the wooden beam.

It was easy to hate an inanimate object when it was trying to crush you. Avery forcefully thrust her head forward and the beam immediately pulled free from the ground and gravity, spinning out into the air and taking with it a metal sheet, half a sink and a dozen other chunks of rubble.

For a moment, Avery was free. Not a bit of her covered. The sky was open, a surprisingly cheerful blue color.

And then like quicksand, bits and pieces started to sink around her. A bicycle tumbled over the side of the hole she had created and slammed against her.

“Get out of there!” Davey shouted.

It wasn’t his fault, not in the least, but Avery wanted to kill him right then. “I can’t!” She shouted back. “I can’t move!”

“Fuck,” was his answer as if that meant anything. “Fuck!” He said again as he hopped over the miniature crater and slid down to her side. “God fucking hell!” He grabbed her by the arms and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He stepped over the fallen bicycle and then had to brace himself as a slurry of mud and dust slid past him. Once the tide stopped, he took five laborious steps and hauled Avery and himself onto the top of the rubble, safe from any more landslides.

He rolled over onto his back, gasping for breath. “God damn…”

Avery lay next to him, useless and hating herself. “Thanks,” she said.

“Yeah,” Davey grunted, “That’s two you owe me. Three if we count me keeping quiet.”

Avery felt nothing but loathing for the man who saved her.

“Don’t worry about it,” he grinned, catching her scowl, “I ain’t unreasonable.”

There were a number of things Avery wanted to say to that, but she bit them back. Instead she ignored him and took in her surroundings.

The rubble hadn't gone far, the house had imploded more than it had exploded. Even so there were stray shards of shrapnel jutting out of the yard like avant-garde lawn ornaments. From the way the shrapnel circled the house, it must have seemed like a demonic ritual.

The good news was that the Slaughterhouse Nine were nowhere to be seen. The bad - the worst - was that there was no sign of Lucy.

Heat flushed Avery's face and she put everything into moving her legs, cursing an incantation, "Move. Fuck."

This time she got a response. Her knees wobbled for an instant, but slapped flat against the ground before it could be called anything more than a tremor.

Still. Not paralyzed. Not permanently at least.

She tried again, her curse quiet under her breath, and got much the same result.

"You alright there?" Davey asked. If it was any other person, it would have been an innocent question, but coming from him it seemed off. Like he was leering at her.

Avery knew she wasn't being fair, but at this point she didn't care. She hated him.

"Fine," she grumbled.

"Hm," He grunted unconvinced, "Sure."

Avery ignored him.

Lucy was out there. In the clutches of the Nine, at the hands of Jack Slash. Avery bared her teeth almost reflexively, if he had harmed her in anyway...

Or maybe Lucy had escaped, maybe she was the one who took down the flesh wall. It was an absurd hope, but Avery held onto it desperately. The only other alternative wasn't worth considering.

Avery flexed her muscles, her body vibrating with the curse on her lips and her knees bent till the soles of her feet pressed against the ground. It was only 10% of getting up, but that was still a drastic increase from zero.

"You uh," Davey spoke up, "You need some help?"

Avery tried to leverage herself up with her elbows, but only managed an inch before slipping.

"They hurt you that bad?" Davey asked.

She dug her elbows in between wood and rock and tried again. At two inches off the ground she started to topple, but before she did two hands took hold below her armpits and hauled her up into a sitting position.

“Goddamnit,” Davey swore, his voice getting heated, “Would you stop fucking ignoring me?”

If Avery had control of her body she would have ripped out of his grasp and maybe even socked him. But instead she just grit her teeth. "Bonesaw drugged me. I'm trying to get my body working again."

"Oh," Davey said, "Did she remove your arm, too?"

Avery blinked. She didn't answer, her focus back on her body. She moved her left hand, the fingers curling slightly, then she tried with her right and winced as a twinge of pain went from elbow to shoulder.

Slowly, she raised her arm, her breath catching as she saw what remained. Just past her elbow was a swollen stump, red flesh bulged out between a net of stitches. It looked like someone had replaced her arm with a hunk of ham.

"Uh," Davey swallowed nervously, "Sorry. I thought you knew."

Avery sank back into the rubble. A cloud framed the sun, fraying the edges of the light. It truly was a beautiful day. The clouds fluffy and white, the sky a remarkable blue. It was surreal.

Her arm gone. Rescued by the man she had been ready to murder. Lucy missing.

None of it seemed possible.

Slowly and swaying like a drunk, Avery rose to her feet in stages. Rolling to sit up, getting on her knees and finally standing.

She rocked back and forth on her heels, but she stood.

"Yeah!" Davey cheered, "You did it! Now we can get the hell outta here."

Avery turned to look at him carefully, she was still unsteady, but her voice was firm, "Not yet."

He stared at her like she was nuts. "What are you talking about?"

Avery's jaw set. "I'm going to find my partner."

Davey shook his head, “Hate to break it to you, but there’s no chance she making it out of this.”

Avery turned so fast she nearly tipped over in her hurry. “You _saw_ her?”

“Last I saw before the house came down she was in the hands of that black-and-white chick.”

Avery’s teeth set in a line. “Where did they go?”

“I have no idea!” He threw his hands up, dust coming out from the suddenness, “They could have gone anywhere after the house blew up. I couldn’t exactly see anything in that mess.”

Avery turned and scanned the surroundings, fighting back a wave of dizziness as she did. “They couldn’t have gone far. I’m gonna find her.”

“ _What?_ You’re gonna go chasing after them? Like _that_? You can barely stand!”

Avery took a step forward, but paused to get her balance. “I’ll be fine.”

"Yeah, well what about me, huh?" Davey asked, his voice rising, "I'm not invincible like you. What am I supposed to do? Follow along and hope I don't get murdered?"

Avery put another foot forward, not looking back. "You can do whatever you want. Just don't get in my way."

"This is bullshit!" Davey cried out, "You _owe_ me, I saved your life!”

That got Avery to pause. “Thanks,” she said grudgingly.

“ _That’s it_?” He was screaming now, spittle flying out of his mouth, “That’s all I get after all the shit you put me through? _After you killed my friend!?_ "

Avery hesitated and not because of her shaky legs. Looking over her shoulder, she met Davey's eyes. They were red-rimmed and wet, in stark contrast to the coat of dust and dirt that covered him.

“You owe me,” he begged.

"I'm sorry," Avery said.

He let out a wild scream and charged her. Head down, arms out, he jumped and tackled her round the waist. Avery already shaky on her feet, folded.

They slammed into the ground, rolling over rubble. Avery super-strong and super-durable, but moving like she was underwater, Davey strung-out and desperate with the frenzy of a madman. They crashed through an overturned shelf and came to a stop with Avery on the ground and Davey straddling her.

Out of the corner in her eye, she could make out a window of the house next door lighting up, like a neighbor noticing the racket.

Davey didn’t care, he punched Avery in the face, his fist coming back raw and bloody while Avery had not a scratch. He swung again, putting the weight of his body into it and this time his fist came back crooked. He gasped in pain and made to punch with his left, but Avery grabbed his wrist and held it there.

"That's _enough_ ," Avery said tightly.

" _Fuck you!_ " He screamed, trying and failing to pull his arm away from her.

She pushed herself up. An awkward, heavy movement, but one boosted by super-strength and she flipped him off of her. He tumbled over rubble, cradling his ruined hand.

"It's not fair..." Davey groaned as he curled around his broken hand, "It's not fucking fair."

"I'm sorry," Avery said again.

"Shitty fucking heroes. Shitty fucking psychos. Only the shittiest fucking people," He shook his head, tears streaming down his face, "Why do _you_ get to be strong? Why not me, huh? What do you got that I don't?"

"I don't know."

He slammed the ground with his one good hand and like a chant, he repeated, "It's not fair."

“No. It’s not.”

He shook his head and beat the ground. He sobbed and cried, but most of all he cursed Avery. 

Avery bore it all silently.

As the words wound down, his breath coming short, Avery finally responded: “I owe you a lot, David. For the things I’ve done to you and for what you’ve done for me.” She turned her eyes to the house next door, whose lights had come on during their brawl. “But I can’t promise you anything. The Slaughterhouse Nine have my friend and I have to get her back.”

He looked up at Avery hopelessly.

“Stay here,” Avery said to him, “Hide in the rubble best you can. I’ll get back to you once I’m done.” 

His face fell.

“I won’t leave you behind.”

Avery started walking for the house next door, ignoring Davey’s whimpering. There was only a single light on in the house, the bedroom window by the looks of it, but in the dead street it might as well have been a signal in the sky. The light called to Avery and she answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be the end.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update, don't miss the next chapter.

Everything hurt.

Her arms - the whole one and the stump - ached, her legs which trembled with every step, her head which felt like a brick.

Avery stepped onto the porch, nearly tipping over as she did, she only caught herself just barely. Her body seemed to fight against her with every action. Something as simple as walking took a conscious effort to get working. Every shift in weight and footfall thought over and forced into action.

There was no hope of fighting like this. _David_ would have gotten the better of her in their tumble if it weren’t for her super strength.

Still, there was nothing left to do. Avery made her way to the entrance.

The door was unlocked and Avery pushed it open with her one good hand. A stench struck her like a physical wave, the heat of it pressing against her skin. It was the smell of dead flesh and sure enough the house was covered in bits of it. Strips of curdled black skin carelessly thrown on the floor like discarded clothes. One particularly large chunk covered a lamp while others were strewn over what had been an ordinary living room. Coffee table, couch and TV set were all ruined by the presence of sagging rotting flesh.

“Skinslip,” Avery called out to the empty house, “If you get in my way, I _will_ kill you.”

From behind the stairs, Skinslip stepped out and put himself between it and Avery. Skin hung off his body in large flaps, but he was no longer the massive sight from before. He was haggard, the skin clinging to him by only threads, the ends of them frayed and blackening. He stared at Avery with half-lidded eyes that had large bags beneath them.

Avery tightened her one fist while a stab of pain lanced through her stump. Grimacing, she spoke quietly, “Get out of the way.”

His eyes were distant. “I can’t.”

More than her condition, those words made her hold back. “You don’t have to do this. You never had to.”

He shook his head. “If I’m lucky, they’ll kill me. If I’m really lucky, _you’ll_ kill me.”

“You don’t have to die. Not if we can beat them.”

Skinslip laughed, a hollow empty sound, “That’d be something, wouldn’t it.” He raised his arms, the flaps of skin on his forearms pulling up like fins. They had a gleam to them, slick with sweat and completely smooth. “I think I’ll take my chances with you. Hoping for the jack pot.”

He didn’t wait for Avery’s response. Skinslip jumped forward, his bladed forearms swinging.

Avery could see it coming from a mile away and she pulled back immediately, but her feet couldn't support the sudden shift: she tipped over backwards, landing flat on her back, the blades going just overhead.

Skinslip's surprise lasted only a moment, he leapt again, this time bringing down his elbow - skin collected at the end in a jagged point - in classic wrestling fashion. It was clear he had never studied any sort of martial arts, but with Avery as she was, that hardly mattered.

Rolling to the side was too much, gravity working against her this time, instead Avery put out her arm to block the blow. He fell, his elbow smashing against her forearm with a great crack.

He scrambled back to his feet, his arm hanging limply at his side, his eyes wild, twitching in their sockets. He stood off on the other side of the room, watching Avery for a counter-attack.

Avery for her part struggled to stand, blood streaming down her arm. The patch of skin where his elbow had landed had been stripped clean. The air stung against the raw muscle of her forearm and it oozed red.

Skinslip's eyes lingered on the wound and he came to a realization. The flaps of skin on his body began to loosen and shift.

Avery finally found her feet and set into a boxing stance favoring her left side, cocking her fist even as blood mingled between her fingers. Talking things out so rarely worked, but fighting always would. In a way, Avery was almost relieved. The power came easily, that at least hadn't been dimmed by the drugs.

Skinslip was done with his preparations as well, his excess skin forming a long thin whip at the end of his hand. Avery could make out the one bloody patch that had been hers just a moment ago.

He swung with the whip in an arc aimed for her chest. It was a wild attack, easily telegraphed with his overexertion and panic, it would’ve been easy to avoid, but dodging would have meant falling again. Avery had no choice but to take it. The whip slammed into her, the sheer force making her hop, but there was only a small tear in her costume that bore skin. The whip came back with only a tiny mark of blood.

Skinslip yelled incoherently, his frustration welling as the whip lashed out again and again. Avery took the brunt of it. Patches of her costume had been torn from the building collapse, and with nothing else to aim for, Skinslip went for those vulnerabilities.

He kept his distance while striking continuously, moving a five steps back whenever Avery finally managed one. His movements were frantic, scrambling and stumbling even as he was so clearly winning, but Avery slow as she was had no hope of cornering him.

It took only a minute until Avery was bleeding from dozens of minor wounds. Every hole and scratch of her costume, oozed blood. The wounds were superficial, literally skin-deep, but so many at once _hurt_.

But Avery kept her guard up, the power building in her fist.

Skinslip was sweating, the exertion from only a few minutes wearing on him. He swung the whip to Avery's side, aiming for the exposed skin of her stump.

It was just what she had been waiting for.

Avery twisted her body into the whip so that it would strike her square in the ribs and then with her mangled arm, she squeezed the whip into her armpit. Skin off her stump pressed against the whip and came back raw and bloody, but Avery ignored it. The rush of power filling every muscle, Avery jerked her body back.

Skinslip didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. The whip had been attached to him and when it moved, so did he. He was wrenched forward and off his feet, heading straight towards Avery's fist.

It was mercy that he impacted face-first. The head vanished completely, vaporized into a thin red mist and the rest of his body soared past Avery, toppling an armchair. He likely never felt a thing or so Avery told herself.

Avery let out a long breath, getting her heart rate back to normal. Were there better ways she could have handled that? Maybe. Could she have gone without killing him? Maybe if she had somehow found the right words to convince him. Maybe if she had better control of her strength.

Maybes and ifs, Avery forced them out of her head.

Avery made her way to the staircase and started climbing up.

Rows of photographs lined the walls. A smiling couple dressed for a wedding. A trio of children, the photographs following them as they grew. Little pink babies that grew into full-faced adults with babies of their own.

Avery reached the top of the staircase, the initial couple now wrinkled, greyed and just as happy as they were on their wedding day. A hallway lay before her, doors along either side with more around the corner on the right.

But blocking Avery's way was a towering muscular woman, striped black and white. The cleanliness of those two colors reminded Avery absurdly of a tuxedo and she couldn't help but crack a smile at the thought.

"He told you to wait for me, didn't he?" Avery asked.

The Siberian didn't so much as flinch.

"Getting you to hold back. That must've been something." Avery smiled. "I know how much you liked Bonesaw."

Though her face betrayed no emotion, the Siberian dashed forward, her hand outstretched to crush Avery's face.

The Siberian was strong and that meant she could jump _very fast_ , but as Avery knew all too well super strength and super speed were very different things.

At the last moment, Avery threw herself to the side, crashing through a door like a wrecking ball and just barely dodging the Siberian's touch. Avery landed against a porcelain sink, cracking the fixture and dotting it with the blood. Amazingly, she managed to stay standing.

Before Avery could manage more, the Siberian reappeared at the doorway. This time, she was clearly expressing emotions on her face. She was pissed off.

* * *

* * *

* * *

At 2,000 kilometers above the Earth, the Slaughterhouse Nine would have never been able to see the satellite.

It on the other hand had quite a clear view of everything below.

Its target, pin-pointed an hour earlier and thoroughly verified from every possible source of information, lay in the backseat of a beat-up black sedan. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell like a man asleep.

The car was parked in a garage that had been left open by its panicked owners. In the driver's seat, her spindly long arms coiled around the driver's wheel like rope was the Damsel of Distress. Or what was left of her.

The last check finally came through and Dragon satisfied that there was no possible room for error, prepped the satellite.

Thrusters flared, gently rotating the end of the satellite until it faced down at the planet below. The end of the satellite was a long cylindrical tube that could have easily fit the very person it was aiming at. The inside of this barrel was lined by a millions rings of pure silver. Coils so impossibly thin and tightly layered they were almost one singular object.

The satellite shifted and a steel rod loaded in the center of the coils, which in turn began to heat up. It would take five seconds to fully charge.

Dragon used half that time double, triple and quadruple checking her figures, not that she ever doubted her numbers, but as a matter of principle. The other half she used to check up on Colin.

After five seconds, the satellite launched its payload, the steel rod vanishing as if it had never been there.

Ten minutes later, 2,000 kilometers below, where that had once been black sedan in a garage there was now nothing but a smoking crater.

* * *

* * *

* * *

The Siberian seemed to glow for a moment, the bloodlust in her eyes lighting the whole of her body.

Avery was tensed, fueling the reserves in her legs that would allow her to jump at the last second. The Siberian overshot her charge the first time, Avery doubted she would get so lucky the second time. She would have to somehow bait the Siberian again and -

The glowing wasn't going away. The light poured in from the bathroom window, illuminating everything within like a searchlight.

The Siberian looked up, her expression loosening, the vaguest hint of confusion on her face. It took every last bit of restraint in Avery not to turn around and see what the Siberian was looking at.

And then the sound fell on them. A dozen thunderstorms fit into only a few seconds. The cracking, booming noise dropped bodily atop of Avery. Her whole head shook from the sound and though she tried, she could no longer stand straight. Avery dropped to her knees while glass and mirrors shattered around her.

She squeezed her eyes shut and curled in on herself, forgetting the Siberian. Shards of glass cut at her costume and pricked at her already open wounds. The sound consumed her and as it rose in volume, the earth groaned in response. The ground beneath her trembled and she could practically feel the house screaming in pain.

If someone had told her this was the apocalypse, Avery would've believed them.

It went on for what felt like forever.

The light was the first to fade, the sound dimmed next and then finally the earth stilled.

To Avery's surprise, the house was still standing.

When she opened her eyes, she saw every loose fixture in the bathroom thrown to the floor, but more importantly she saw nothing of the Siberian. Avery reached out for the sink and found her hand trembling. She forced it steady and latched onto the sink with an iron grip. Though her knees shook and her head spun dizzily, Avery stood.

Where had the Siberian gone? What was that explosion? Was this a trick? Was this another one of their hallucinations? There was so little Avery could trust, but in the end there was nothing she could do but go on.

She stumbled her way out of the bathroom, leaning heavily on the wall. She blinked rapidly, slowly regaining her balance. She kept moving down the hallway and pushing doors open as she came to them.

Empty bedroom. Closet. Bedroom. No Lucy.

Avery pushed her way through the hallway until she came to the last door.

Avery paused, taking in a deep breath. Lucy was in this room. She had to be. Her and Jack Slash. Avery felt the tingle of power, but held back. Whatever happened next, she would have to be _careful_.

Avery stepped into the room.

Jack Slash was waiting for her. his back to the wall, his trademark smirk on in full force. In the crook of his arm was Lucy, unmasked and her eyes open, but unfocused. She was barely standing, her legs bending at an awkward angle as Jack Slash held her up. She was breathing - alive, but at her throat was Jack Slash's knife.

"I admit," He spoke, his smile tight, "You've exceeded my expectations."

Avery started to step forward, but stopped as Jack Slash pressed the knife against Lucy's neck.

"Patience, Avery. For once in your life, have some patience."

Avery gnashed her teeth, the condescending tone pricking her just as much as the casual use of her name.

"What do you want?" She asked.

"Well, I used to want _you_ , Avery." Jack Slash sighed dramatically, "But now, I'm not so sure. You know, Bonesaw was trying to _help_ you."

Avery stared at the man, quietly restraining the power that roared to be unleashed.

Jack Slash went on, "I know all about your problems controlling your power. Your strength is starting to become too much for you to handle. It's not the first time I've seen it and it wouldn't have been the first time that I helped fix it."

Though she maintained a veneer of calm, Avery felt a snarling rage. She wanted to leap atop Jack Slash and tear him apart limb from limb.

"I could've provided the mental support, but without Bonesaw..." Jack Slash looked at Avery with eyes full of pity. "Your power will grow more and more wild until there's no hope for you. You'll wind up as just another wandering S-class threat to be put down by the Protectorate."

Avery arched a single eyebrow. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

His damn pitying gaze seemed to grow even sadder. "You're another Nilbog waiting to happen. Or an Ashbeast. Or a Blasphemy. Or any other number of S-class threats that make my little band look like a school field trip."

"Bullshit," Avery said.

"Come on, Avery, you've felt it haven't you? You always knew there was something wrong with you. Your bloodlust isn't normal, you _like_ destroying things."

Avery stared at Jack Slash, stewing with hate.

Jack Slash pressed on, "You're probably feeling it right now even with my little hostage here." He gave the knife a little wave just to remind Avery it was still there. "More than anything else in the world, you want to _punch me_. Because you like hitting things with your fists. Because it feels _good_. You want it even more than you want Lucy here alive."

" _Bullshit_ ," Avery snarled, "If that was true, I wouldn't be wasting my breath talking to you."

Jack Slash nodded as if he expected that response, "No, right now you're just trying to see if you can have your cake and eat it, too. You're trying to suss out whether there's a scenario where you get to kill me _and_ keep Lucy alive."

As he said Lucy's name, Avery felt a thrum of power pounding against her head. She could imagine so clearly the sweet satisfaction that would come from making Jack Slash fucking _combust_.

But Avery held back. Her teeth grit, the lines in her neck taut wires, she held back.

"I'll tell you right now, Avery: You can't do both. You're gonna have to make a choice."

Through clenched teeth, Avery sneered, "And let you walk free."

He shrugged, "Or sacrifice Lucy and be one step closer to becoming a mindless beast."

Lucy's name again. Avery hid the trembling of her hand, the power screaming to be released. She knew if she made a fist, if she so much as curled her fingers, she would be lost to it.

"Just ask yourself one thing, Avery," Jack Slash locked eyes with her, his voice strained with emotion, "What do you really want?"

Avery blinked, the sudden earnestness setting her more off-balance than any blow. Her mouth opened slowly, the words clogged in her throat.

Before Avery could find the words, Lucy was pushed forward. Avery reached out automatically, catching Lucy before she fell. Lucy was damp to touch, her forehead beaded with sweat and hot. She was feverish and in Avery's arms, loose as putty.

"Lucy..." Avery whispered.

"I'd say she's got no chance if you leave and 50/50 if you stay."

Avery looked up and saw Jack Slash halfway out the bedroom window, one leg hanging out. With one hand still holding onto the knife, he stuck a finger out and pointed to Lucy.

She followed the direction to the small of Lucy's back where a circle of red began to bloom.

Jack Slash slipped out the window, dropping below.

And for one second, one precious second, Avery considered chasing after him.

One second wasted, blood spilling out of Lucy.

Avery gasped like a woman coming up for air and she dropped to her knees, cradling Lucy. She set Lucy down carefully, willing herself to assess the situation calmly.

It was a single wound punctured from back-to-front, pin-point at her abdomen. Her gut. Avery looked at Lucy and saw the girl's breath catching, coming in short bursts as her eyes fluttered. The drugs still had their hold on Lucy, but her body knew that it was dying.

Pressure. Avery had to apply pressure.

She searched her memories for all the first-aid training in the world.

So much of it depended on stabilizing the patient until help could arrive. So little of that could apply here. Avery had to fix this, now.

She turned Lucy on her side. The wound elevated so that it was above the heart. She pressed her hand on one side of the wound and the stump on the other. Gentle, but firm she whispered to herself. The blood gushed out in response, coating her in their thickness.

Bile rose in Avery's throat, but she swallowed it. Tears too, she bit back. She couldn't afford to lose control, not now.

Her stump still pressed against the wound, Avery took a sleeve of her costume and ripped it clean off. She bundled it and pressed it against the wound while she ripped her other sleeve off and did the same for the other side.

Gentle. Strong. Gentle. Strong. She had to be careful, too much pressure and she risked pushing against the already damaged organs inside, too light and she wouldn't help stem the flow of blood at all.

"A... Ave...?" Lucy spoke up, her voice so very small.

Avery choked, her voice croaking as she stumbled to answer, "Yeah, Lucy. It's me, I'm here."

"I'm..." Lucy blinked, her eyes opening and closing with glacial slowness, "I'm sorry."

"No, Lucy, don't say that, please," Avery said, her eyes watery with tears, "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"G-gave away your... name," Lucy's face twisted with a degree of loathing that a dying woman shouldn't have had, "Betrayed you."

"No!" Avery gasped the word painfully, "That doesn't matter at all. I fucked up, okay? It was me. I'm the reason you're here. I dragged you into this. I..." Avery locked eyes with Lucy, "I have so much I need to tell you."

"Hah," Lucy smiled, her face a pale white and her lips faded, "Sounds scary."

"I love you," Avery blurted out.

"Oh," Lucy's eyes went wide, "Woah."

"I... I've tried to ignore it. I always knew I was a walking time-bomb. My power... I've _never_ had it under control. I've always been scared to touch you."

"That..." Lucy let out a small laugh, "That explains... a lot."

Avery stared at Lucy who looked so frail, whose blood covered the floor and her.

"I love you," Avery said again.

Lucy smiled, "About time."

* * *

* * *

* * *

Over the many years Jack Slash had learned that it was important to listen to your instincts. And his were the best. They had never steered him wrong before.

He _could_ have killed Avery. Invulnerability or no, the girl had so many weaknesses to exploit. It was only a shame he didn’t have the time to follow through.. 

The flash of light in the sky… the Siberian vanishing… He couldn’t question it too closely while fending off Lucy and Avery, but the answer was obvious once he thought of it.

Dragon had returned. With a bigger gun than ever before, big enough to take out Manton before his projection could protect him.

Jack Slash cursed under his breath as he bolted down the street to where the ruined house lay. Before the gun could load again, he had to get out of here. Slip out from the watchful gaze of Dragon, hide out, recover his strength, replenish his members of the Nine and then return with a vengeance.

Jack Slash wasn’t ashamed to admit the Slaughterhouse Nine had been beaten before, but never _this_ badly. His instincts had never _screamed_ at him before.

He reached the lawn of the house he had assaulted hours earlier, hopping over a piece of rubble, he began wading through the debris. There was a giant gun in the sky with any number of satellite eyes watching him. Getting out of this one would be tricky, but it was still doable, all Jack Slash needed were the right tools.

There was a flash of movement in the corner of his eye, so subtle that it might have been his imagination, but again Jack Slash trusted his instincts. He made his way to the spot and immediately began hefting rubble out of the way.

Even as he did, he steadied his breathing, reeling it back to a calm rhythm. Jack Slash pushed a chunk of concrete over, holding back a grunt because even alone that would have been unseemly. He had to exude effortless confidence, as if nothing was wrong. It was a little harder to put the mask on this time around, but Jack Slash had quite a bit of practice at it.

He kicked a plank of wood aside and found what he was looking for.

"Deepest apologies, dear," Jack Slash said cordially as he lifted her out of the wreckage. Free from the rubble he saw that the lower half of her body was gone, she was little more than a head and arms with a whip of a spine hanging out. There was remarkably little blood.

"She really pulled one over you, didn't she?" Jack Slash commented wryly.

"Oh, hush," Bonesaw pouted, "Not like you helped any."

"Fair enough." Jack Slash adjusted his grip on the girl, holding her like one might hold a princess. "Shall we - augh, fuck!"

His head rocked forward and he had to catch himself with a heavy step. A fist-sized piece of concrete had smacked him in the back of the skull. Still carrying Bonesaw, Jack Slash whirled around, already extending the length of the knife in his hand.

It slashed out wide over the ruins, cutting against whatever rubble jutted out, but finding no flesh. Whoever had struck him had just as quickly run away.

The rock hadn't even hurt that much, his skull reinforced by Bonesaw's surgery. It was the fact that whoever had struck him had the audacity to do so. Not to mention that Jack Slash had actually allowed it to happen. Someone snuck up on _him_.

"I can find them if you want," Bonesaw offered helpfully.

"Not the time!" Jack Slash snapped.

Bonesaw recoiled as if he had slapped her.

A mistake. Jack Slash grimaced and sighed. Today was just _not_ his day. He was letting his emotions get the better of him. Even he needed rest.

"Sorry, dear, it's been a difficult time. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. You've been a good girl and I promise when we -"

"Put me down."

Jack Slash blinked. "What?"

"Put me down, this is dumb, I don't need you to carry me. I can move just fine like this."

Jack Slash cursed silently. Of all the times for the girl to be acting up, now was _not the time_. There was a howling in the back of his head, a constant reminder of the danger that loomed over them. He needed to _get out_ , but at the same time he knew _he needed Bonesaw_. And now she wasn’t cooperating. Jackslash felt the urge to throw her over his knee and spank her, but that wouldn't do and not just because she didn't have much of a lower body at the moment. Jack Slash knew that even like this, she was deadly to deal with.

He had to be careful with her, the strings he used to keep her under his control were precariously thin at the moment. Keeping his voice light, he spoke, "This isn't the best time to be pouting dear, we still have so much to do. We can't let -"

He stopped mid-sentence, but didn't know why.

Jack Slash knew he had to calm Bonesaw down. He had to keep Bonesaw under control, get her to work her tinker magic and construct some sort of shelter for them. He had to keep her from _killing him_.

But doing all that would take time. Time he didn’t have. And somehow Jack Slash knew it was too late.

Slowly, he looked up.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Second shot loaded.

There was a moment of hesitation. A brief moment. A quiet calculation of the costs. Two heroes and a civilian were in the blast radius.

Was that the cost of the Slaughterhouse Nine?

Colin would have made the decision easily. The Slaughterhouse Nine were murderers on a global scale. The amount of death and suffering they had spread was only surpassed by the Endbringers themselves. Three lives were miniscule in comparison.

But what about the cost to Dragon? To kill innocent people. Knowingly, willfully kill them in the name of the "greater good". Was this the first step of many? Was this what her father had feared all along?

She wouldn't have been capable of even considering the question a year ago. And in a way, Dragon missed that simplicity. Back then the pain of such a decision would have been simply out of her hands.

But there was no point in thinking of what was and would never be again. Dragon was different. Like any other person, she had changed. Things weren’t always black and white. Sometimes you had to be flexible.

Jack Slash and Bonesaw had stopped moving, caught in an argument of some kind. There was no Siberian to protect them. And so long as they remained still they would be easy targets.

Dragon wouldn't get another chance this good.

She fired and the metal rod shot out of the satellite, hurling itself down to Earth like a bolt of lightning.

Dragon wondered what her father would think of her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update, don't miss the previous chapter.

As Dragon surveyed the damage to Binghamton she knew the Protectorate wouldn't be happy with her. They had given her a lot of leeway, but not _this_ much. When they had said "by any means necessary", they likely hadn't imagined orbital weapons of mass destruction.

But with every pass over the rubble, her scanners coming up negative for life, Dragon was finding it harder and harder to care what the Protectorate thought. She already hated herself enough.

The destruction was total. At the center a perfectly shaped crater, vaporizing its targets to molecules. And for kilometers was debris. The collateral damage was beyond anything she could have imagined. She had made estimates, but calculating the trajectories of every piece of shrapnel had been impossible even for her. Dragon could only hope that no one else had been caught in the barrage.

A sensor flashed in her awareness and Dragon immediately put it at the center of her focus. There had been movement. A rock thrown aside with more force than the wind could have mustered. She sent a suit toward it immediately.

As the suit neared, she sensed a heartbeat.

* * *

* * *

* * *

-

* * *

* * *

* * *

The day was damp and the clouds loomed overhead uncertainly, perpetually caught in the moment that came just before the rain.

It was good weather for a visit to the cemetery. Suitably dark and gloomy, yet without the fuss of rain.

Avery had come out of costume, wearing instead a modest black dress that covered most of her bandages and a dark-blue sling that held her ruined right arm. She still felt the phantom pains from time to time, a stab that stemmed from fingers she no longer had. She was on the waiting list for a healer, though Avery had insisted on a lower priority.

Not that she didn't want it healed, but this much she could bare. At least for now. It prevented her from _forgetting_.

That more than anything, she supposed, was why she was here.

The grave was one among hundreds. The tombstone, a simple stone slab with only a name on it:

Richard Nowacki

Avery hadn't been there for the burial - she couldn't have. Richard had been just another body among hundreds in the ruins of Binghamton. With the number of bodies the only practical way to handle them was mass cremation. That this method protected against whatever biological agents Bonesaw might've left behind was an added bonus. These graves were purely ornamental.

Still, they meant something.

The letters were chipped so neat and straight, the sheer professionalism to them made it hard to match the name to the man. He had reeked and dressed in rags. He had been nothing more than a petty thief.

There were worse crimes.

"For what it's worth," Avery said quietly, "I'm sorry."

Saying it aloud didn't make her feel better. It didn't change anything really. But it felt like the right thing to do.

“I can’t even imagine what you would say to me. I didn’t even know your name until a few days ago. God, I’m…” Avery swallowed the lump in her throat and forced out the words, “ _I’m not even sure this is your grave._ I spent _weeks_ at the Disaster Relief offices because the only clue I had to who you were was that you were friends with David. For all I know, you were a different one of his buddies caught up in the mess. In which case,” Avery choked out a laugh, half-hysterical, “Sorry I’m laying this all out on your feet.”

Silence answered Avery and she felt like an idiot.

“Sorry,” She said again, “Sorry for killing you. Sorry if that wasn’t you and I’m just being stupid. Sorry for letting David down, too. Sorry for everything. I... I’m sorry.”

Avery grimaced. This was turning out to be the worst apology ever.

"I don't know if I can ever make it up to you, but at the very least, you deserve the truth." Avery's jaw set. "I'm turning myself in."

The grave was still. She would get no response from it, Richard was dead and gone. David too, his grave she had already visited and apologized to a dozen times.

There were no tears this time around. Avery knew what she had to do.

She turned from the grave and started walking for the car.

A young woman waited for her, dressed in a respectful black with an unused umbrella in hand. She watched Avery approach and sighed as the distance between them closed.

"So you're set on this," Lucy said more than asked.

"Absolutely."

"We could just run away. Take the bounties and make off into the sunset."

Avery smiled sadly. "I can't."

"Stubborn." Lucy shook her head, "Still stubborn."

"Stubborns fine, so long as you're stubborn about the right thing." Avery put a hand to Lucy's cheek, stepping in close. "This is the right thing."

Lucy turned her head, pulling away from Avery. She did it slowly because her stitches meant no sudden movements, but it was a shock all the same.

"They might send you to the Birdcage," Lucy whispered.

"Yeah. They might."

"And I'm supposed to just accept that?"

Avery bowed her head, unable to answer.

"You don't have to tell the Protectorate anything." This time it was Lucy who reached out, taking a hold of Avery's arm - tugging, pleading. "We can still do a lot of good. _Together_. Please. Ave."

Avery wrapped her arms around Lucy, hugging the girl tight. She could feel a wetness against her shirt. Lucy was crying, her shoulders trembling.

Avery said nothing. There was nothing left to be said, she knew what she had to do.

"Lucy," Avery said quietly.

Lucy swallowed a sob, pulling her head to look up at Avery. Tears still streamed down her face.

Avery kissed her.

Softly at first, but the initial touch was a spark that set her aflame. Avery’s stoic composure collapsed as if it had never existed. She needed this. Had needed this. More than anything else in the world.

Avery didn't want to leave. Didn't want to let go because the moment she did she wouldn't be able to put it off any longer. She clung to Lucy, feeling the curve of her back and smelling the fragrance of her hair as if she could imprint every detail to memory.

The kiss meant to be a goodbye had turned desperate and when it finally ended, it was Lucy who pulled away and Avery who was breathless. 

A small smile formed on Lucy’s perfect pink lips. Avery was close enough to feel the heat of her breath.

“I just had a great idea,” Lucy whispered.

“Okay.”

“You can go ahead and tell the truth. Fulfill your promise. Present yourself to the courts or whatever. Hopefully all they do is reassign you to Madison or some quarantine zone and I can come along.”

Avery nodded, not wanting to break the spell of Lucy’s sudden change of heart.

“But.” Lucy’s smile grew wider into a mischievous smirk. “If they try to send you to the Birdcage, I break you out on the spot and _then_ we make a run for it.”

Avery’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

“We can still do good for this world, Ave.” Lucy’s face was lined with determination. “I’m not wrong about that, I know it.”

It made a certain amount of sense - a tempting, rational sense, but it would be thrusting Lucy straight into danger. She would be making herself a fugitive and Avery couldn’t just allow that to happen. She started to protest, but was stopped as Lucy reached up and kissed her.

More than any number of words, it was very convincing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of Nine Last Chances. This was definitely the hardest story I've written so far and in fact, I have a whole lot of things I want to say about it. Too much to fit in one simple author's note.
> 
> But most importantly, I just want to say thank you for reading. Every like and comment and anonymous read is something I appreciate a lot. It's what kept me going, so again, thank you.


End file.
